Skip to main content

Full text of "The roving editor: : or, Talks with slaves in the southern states"

See other formats 


ot 
i 


Ez 
unl wml 





—— 


GivEN By 


| ANendorl Meillyps 





| 


44 


A 


ae 





{i 


tm 














ad 















































The slave-felon and the man of God confronted 


“Tle went to the cell. 


275. 


Nee page 


.? 


each other. 


THE 


ROVING EDITOR: 


TALKS 


OR, 


WITH SLAVES 


IN 


THH SOUTHERN STATES. 


BY 


JAMES REDPATI. 


° Y “With the strong arm and giant grasp, ’tis wrong 


To crush the feeble, unresisting throng. 
Who pities not the fallen, let him fear, 


Lest, if he fall, no friendly hand be near: 

Who sows ill actions and of blessing dreams, 

Fosters vain phantasies and idly schemes. 

Unstop thy ears! thy people’s wants relieve! | | / 
If not, a day shall come when all their rights receive.’ 


Sadé, 


Hew Pork : 


A. B. BURDICK, PUBLISHER, 


8 SPRUCE STREET. 
1859, 





ENTERED according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
sAmMancd KE DPATH, 
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. 


273.69 


——arr~r~—r_er 2O 000 00 ree 


Geo, Russett & Co,, Printers, 


. 


DEDICATION. 





To CapraIn JoHN Browy, Senior, of Kansas: 


To you, Old Hero, I dedicate this record of my Talks 
with the Slaves in the Southern States. 

To you is due our homage for first showing how, and 
how alone, the gigantic crime of our age and nation can 
be effectually blotted out from our soil forever. You have 
proven that the slaver has a soul as cowardly as his own 
‘domestic institution ;’ you have shown how contemptible 
he is as a foe before the rifle of the earnest freeman. 
With your sword of the Lord and of Gideon you met him 
face to face ; with a few ill-clad and ill-armed footmen, you 
routed his well-mounted and well-armed hosts. 

I admire you for your dauntless bravery on the field ; 
but more for your religious integrity of character and resolute 
energy of anti-slavery zeal. Rifle in hand, you put the 
brave young men of Kansas to shame; truth in heart, you 
rendered insignificant the puerile programmes of anti-slavery 
politicians. 

You have no confidence in any man, plan or party that 
ignores moral principle as the soul of its action, You 
well know that an Organized Iniquity can never be des- 
troyed’ by any programme of action which overlooks the 
fact that it is a crime, and is therefore to be eradicated with- 
out compromise, commiseration or delay. This, also, is my 
belief. Hence do I doubt the ultimate efficacy of any politi- 

8 


iv DEDICATION. 


cal anti-slavery action which is founded on Expediency— 
the morals of the counting-room—and hence, also, I do 
not hesitate to urge the friends of the slave to incite insur- 
rections, and encourage, in the North, a spirit which shall 
ultimate in civil and servile wars. I think it unfair that 
the American bondman should have no generous Lafayette. 
What France was to us in our hour of trial, let the North 
be to the slave to-day. The oppressions of which the men 
of ’76 complained through the muzzles of their guns and 
with the points of their bayonets, were trifling—unworthy 
of a moment’s discussion—as compared with the cruel and 
innumerable wrongs which the negroes of the South now 
endure. If the fathers were justified in ¢hezr rebellion, how 
much more will the slaves be justifiable in ¢hezv insurrection ? 
You, Old Hero! believe that the slave should be aided and 
urged to insurrection, and pee do I lay this tribute at 
your feet. 

You are unwilling to ignore the rights of the slave for 
any reason—any “‘ constitutional guarantees ”—any plea of 
vested rights—any argument of inferiority of race—any 
sophistry of Providential overrulings, or pitiable appeals for 
party success. You are willing to recognize the negro as a 
brother, however inferior in intellectual endowments; as 
having rights, which, to take away, or withhold, is a crime 
that should be punished without mercy—surely—promptly 
—by law, if we can do it ; over it, if more speedily by such 
action ; peacefully if we can, but forcibly and by spon oct 
if we ee ! So am I. 

You went to Kansas, when the troubles broke out there 
—not to ‘‘settle” or ‘‘ speculate ”—or from idle curiosity: 
but for one stern, solitary purpose—to have a shot at the 
South. So did I. 

To you, therefore, my senior in years as in services to the 
slave, I dedicate this work. 


James ReEppatu. 
Maven, Massachusetts. 


MY CREED. 


In order that no man, or body of men, may be injured or 
misrepresented by unfair presentations or perversions of my 
creed, -or induced to peruse the pages that follow, under 
false impressions or pretences, I will here briefly state my 
political, or rather my revolutionary Faith : 

Iam a Republican—and something more. Iam inflexibly 
opposed to the extension of slavery; but equally do I 
oppose the doctrine of its protection in States where it 
already exists. Non-intervention and protection are practi- 
cally synonymous, Let slavery alone, and it lives a century. 
Fight it, and it dies. Any weapons will kill it, if kept 
ever active: fire or water—bayonets or bullion—the sol- 
dier’s arm or the writer’s pen. To prevent its extension 
merely, will never destroy it. If it is right that slavery 
should exist in Georgia, it is equally right to extend it into 
Kansas. If the inter-state traffic in human beings is right, 
equally just is the demand for re-opening the slave trade. 

I am an Emancipationist--and something more. I be- 
lieve slavery to be a curse, which it is desirable to speedily 
abolish. But to Gradual Emancipation I am resolutely 
antagonistic. For I regard property in man as robbery of 
man ; and I am not willing that our robbers should give 
notes on time—for freedom and justice at thirty days, or 


thirty years, or any other period : rather let them be smit- 
5 


vl MY OREED. 


ten down where they stand, and the rights that they have 

wrested from their slaves, be wrested—if necessary—with 
bloodshed and violence, with the torch and the rifle, from 
them. 

I am an American—and something more. I think it 
wrong to give to foreigners the rights that we deny to 
native-born Americans. I think it wrong and tyrannical for 
one class of persons—sometimes citizens of foreign birth— 
to vote for, disfranchise, whip, sell, buy, breed for market, 
and otherwise degrade the colored natives of our Southern 
soil. I regard the decision of Judge Taney, and his brethren, 
as not infamous only, but insulting to our national character. 
I would extend to all Americans, without distinction of color 
or creed, the inalienable birthright of whistling Yankee 
Doodle, and hurrahing, with heart-felt emphasis, on the 
Fourth of July, and after every presidential election—unless 
Buchanan is again a successful candidate. 

I am an Abolitionist—and something more. I am in 
favor, not only of abolishing the Curse, but of making repara- 
tion for the Crime. Not an Abolitionist only, but a Repara- 
tionist. The negroes, I hold, have not merely the inalien- - 
able right to be free, but the legal right of compensation 
for their hitherto unrequited services to the South. I more 
than agree with the Disunion Abolitionists. They are in 
favor of a free Northern Republic. So am I. But as to 
boundary lines we differ. While they would fix the 
Southern boundary of their free Republic at the dividing 
line between Ohio and Kentucky, Virginia and the Key- 
stone State, I would wash it with the warm waters of the 
Gulf of Mexico. ‘ But what shall we do with the slaves ?” 
Make free men of them. ‘And with the slaveholding 
class?” Abolish them. ‘And with the Legrees of the 
plantations ?” Them, annihilate! Drive them into the sea, 
as Christ once drove the swine ; or chase them into the 
dismal swamps and black morasses of the South. “ Any- 
where—anywhere—out of the world !” 


MY CREED. Vii 


I am a Peace-Man—and something more. I would fight. 
and kill for the sake of peace. Now, slavery is a state 
of perpetual war. 

I am a Non-Resistant—and something more. I would 
slay every man who attempted to resist the liberation of the 
slave. 

I am a Democrat—and nothing more. I believe in 
humanity and human rights. I recognize nothing as so 
sacred on earth. Rather than consent to the infringement 
of the most insignificant or seemingly unimportant of human 
rights, let races be swept from the face of the earth—let 
nations be dismembered—let dynasties be dethroned—let 
laws and governments, religions and reputations be cast out 
and trodden under feet of men ! 

This is my creed. For myself, I am an earnest man. If 
you think proper, now, to accompany me—come on ; if not, 
au revoir—and may’ the Lord have mercy on your soul ! 


1* 








it 


ak we Ll 
cm a , bd 
A 
t 
= 
7 
% 5 
Se oe lo a 
2 ’ 
ee et ee Sy re . 
A 
“ 
7 
é 4 
f 
- ’ 
¥ é 
3 
» 
, 
ya x 
> < ~ 
» 
= 
‘ 
\ 
; i 
- + 2 
< 
. 
’ 77 
4 
* 


a or 

y 

ici ae j 

: Roe! 
Dhar s 





—— 


| Neale 
ne ot 


ok: 2 tatty 6 tne 


. 


» er elie 


: Ad ar j 
> 
a ’ 
? J . 
3 iz t Hi Ps) ee 
Py Fi ee 
' + s 
i ' ; vTpsde. 
A fey 
P “bte® ’ 
ft +G Leeitry a4 
wes a 
a”, oR - RDI eae ee 
. done tage dee 
3 a 4 


aye Bits HUG cA 


re ah maa 
eb WR, ante ' 





CON TENT S. 





ee er Re tT TRIP. 
I.—VIRGINIA. 


A Word before starting—I start—Richmond—Thoughts in a Graveyard 
—A Sheriff’s Advertisement—A Slave Sale—The Auctioneer—A 
Young Girl—Her Educational Attainments—Son of a Gun—No 
Thing else—Two Girls Sold—The Angry Slave Trustee—Of a Run- 
away and Mint Juleps—A Man publicly stripped and ‘‘ examined’ 
MIME MAIBCOURD. het... alee ce cc cec ce veoses <ecasee talG 


II.— VIRGINIA. 


Talk with a Free Negro—A Colored Liberator—Oppressive Laws and 
Ordinances—How they Operate-—Worthless Free Negroes—The 
Market Woman—Women insulted—How very contented the Slaves 
are—About Runaways—The African Church—A Dodge exposed— 
Heavy Hearts and Raw Backs—Deity vindicated against a Divine— 
What White Clergymen preach to Slaves—How Do unto Others, etc., 
fared —The poor Whites and Slavery—North and South—Reciprocal 
Amenities—A colored Exile—A contented Slave—A Corroboration 
from Olmsted’s Book, ............. PP Pa citric 11-25 


III.—-Nortn CAROLINA. 


A North Carolina Plantation’s Head-quarters--Sovereignty of the 
Individual in very Full Blast-—-Two Slaves’ Statements—-A con- 
tented and a discontented Slave—The Mulatto—Contentment with 
Slavery—A Colored Preacher’s Family—-The Negro who would n’t 
be druv—A Boy’s Opinion—A Sign of the Times—Advantages of 
a National Creed—Senator Douglas—A Quotation,.... .... 26-388 

a® . ix 


x CONTENTS. 


IV.—Norru CAROLINA. 


Slavery or Matrimony ?—A Colored Calculation—How the Slaves 
feel—The. old Slave Mother’s Reply—The Domestic Institution—A 
chuckling Negro—Why Slaves lie—A Patriot Slave—Discontent— 
Negro Cannfbalism—Talks with Whites—Southern Abolitionists— 
A Slave Pen—A White Slave—An infernal Outrage on Mother- 
hood—Stir np the Fires—For whom?..............eeeee- 39-49 


V.—SoutH CAROLINA. 


Charleston—The Sugar House—An Incendiary Paragraph—Bully 
Brooks and Colored Contentment—Dare South Carolina secede ?— 
The Consequences of Secession—Punishment at the Sugar House— 
Charles Sumner’s Namesake—Story of a Slave—How he knowed his 
Parents like a Book—The captured Negro’s Conduct—Slaves will- 
ing to fight—Raised and growed—Paddling—The Brine Barrel— 
Humphrey Marshall’s Description of an efficient Means of Saving 
Aya Lal MRP Meta Me cewent cereus pa 6 eiets Belale ete ene 50-60 


VI.—Soutn CaRoLina. 


Salt Water Philanthropy—The Girl who didn’t like Ginger—The 
Good Un and the Nice Ole Gal—A small Family--Not Church-mem- 
bers and why—Not divorced, and not married, and both—Christian 
Morality and Slavery—Surprising Ignorance of the Slaves—Con- 
cerning Napoleon Bonaparte—Europe and the Slave who never 
heern ob him—Colored Contentment—-What the Boys said—The 
willing Exile—Pro and Con—Slaveholders criminal even if igno- 
rant of the Moral Law—-Savannah—-A Slave’s Allowance—-Expense 
of supporting Slavery on the Non-slaveholder—A Compliment to 
the Legal Profession,, .(..<.0:4 «sain oe s.00 = ¢ 9s ease 61-72 


VII.—SourtH CARo.Lina. 


The Southern Commercial Convention—Secret History of the Anti- 
Tribune Debate—Parson Brownlow’s great Joke—Greeley and 
the Counter-jumpers—Sartorial Description of the Author—A 
sublime Moral—-The Tennessee Editor—Parson Brownlow’s Pul- 
pit Pistols—A Southern Opinion of Greeley—The Tribune’s cor- 
respondent an honorary Delegate—Sound and Fury—Turned out— 
The Dagger Parasol Stem—Planting Potatoes for Posterity, 78-81 


CONTENTS. xi 


Mowe OND OTR LP. 


. I.—VIRGINIA. 


. 

Preliminary Words on Insurrection—I start again—Chesterficld 
County Facts—Social Reunions North and South—The poor Whites 
and Slavery—Education and Slavery—a Know-Nothing yet wise 
Negro Boy—Farming Utensils—Guano and Negroes—The Slave- 
Tie Soe eae ccs s cosines i vvicwsesveces 82-90 


II.—VIRGINIA. 


Talk with a Virginia Slave—Contentment with Slavery—Treatment 
. of Slaves on Plantations—An unbelieving Negro-—Canada Negroes 
—Treatment of Free Negroes Noxth and South—Uoncerning 
Eafen worries: PTT CG Salen cics ce vetegedsssesice's 91-97 


III.--HistToricat. 


Is Slavery a Curse ?—A rare little Virginia Book—Thos. Marshall on 
Slavery—The Black Wave—John A. Chandler on Slavery—A 
Radical Notion—-Henry Berry on Slavery—A Cancer on the Body 
Politic—Danger ahead—A Damning Confession—Charles Jas. 
Faulkner’s Opinion—Save the West-—-An Eloquent Protest against 
Slavery Extension—Influence of Slavery on Free White Labor— 
Treatment of Free Negroes in Virginia,...............-- 98-106 


IV.—-HISTORICAL. 


Faulkner again—Slavery and Freedom compared—A strong Passage 
—-Thomas J. Randolph on Slavery——Is Slavery a Curse ?--Slavery 
a Leprosy——-Who would have been greatest ?—Dangerous Property— 
A beautiful Domestic Institution—-Slavery a National Evil, 107-113 


V.—-Nortu CaRo.Lina. 


Weldon--Talk with a young Slave—Why Slaves do n’t run away—- 
Magnetic Liberators—The old Baptist Slave—Separation of Slaves 
—Why old Slaves seem younger than they are——Colored Content- 
ment—Murder will Out—A Slave killed on a Plantation—Planta- 
tion Life—God bless you, Massa,.........eeeseeeeeees 114-122 


Xil CONTENTS. 


VI.—NortH CAROLINA. 


Wagoner—Talk with a young Slave—Afraid of the Abolitionists— 
The Axeman—Discontent—Arm the Slaves!—Murder and Tor- 
ture of Slaves—Work! Work! Work!-—About Clothing, etc—A 
PIB OL MOANCIPAON, .. 2... 2 oe + oes s ta us eee 123-132 


VII.—Tue CaRro.inas. 


At Wilmington—-In a Fix—Walk to Augusta—The Road—Dis- 
‘contentment—North Carolina could be made a Free State—Rail- 
road Hands—Their Allowance—Allowance of Food and Clothing 
to other Slaves—‘‘ Every Comfort in Health ”—Comfortable Sleep- 
ing Apartments—White and Negro Hospitality—An Incident— 
Christian Morality and Slavery—A Hospitable Swamp—Postscript 
about Slaves and other People in the Turpentine Forests, 133-143 


VIII.—Gerorera. 


A Plague-stricken City—The Crabbed old Man—Yev got the Yellar 
Fever !—First View of Augusta—The Appearance of the City— 
The Negro of the Cemetery—Why so few Negroes died of Yellow 
Fever—The Cemetery—Shingle Monuments—tThe little captive 
MOUSO) Sots ccc cece cest eens a ctes 50 5a cers 144-151 


IX.—GEORGIA. 


The Ghost, or the Haunted Cabin—Southern audacity of assertion— 
The Negro who would n’t be Free—The Foreign Population of the 
South as Slavemasters--A Southern Requiem,......... . 152-160 


X.—-GEORGIA. 


Self-educated Slaves—Pursuit of Knowledge under difficulties— 
Alphabetical Truth at a Well--Helplessness at Table—The Cham- 
bermaid’s Opinion—Why Slaves steal—The Fugitive Slave Act 
—Southern Directions how to make it inoperative—Ditto of the 
Dred Scott Decision—Is Slavery a Local Institution and an Evil ? 
—Opinion of Gov. Wilson, of South Carolina—Forward !—The Pea- 
nut Seller's Triamiph, . .. ve< sss ee dens cease bee 161-170 


CONTENTS. xili 


XI.— ALABAMA. 


A Journey afoot—Contentment of Slaves in Alabama—Railroad 
Hands—Their Allowance—Slavery and Chastity—Marriage and 
Slavery—The Rich Slave—Other Slaves and Slave Sales—The 
next Lot—Hiring own Time—A godly City, . ......... 171-176 


XII.—Lovistana. 


About Southern Women and Northern Travellers chiefly : also, inci- 
dentally, of the Higher Law and the old Slave Abraham—Why 
Northern Travellers in the South so often return home with Pro- 
slavery. Opinions—Four Reasons—Property in Man is Robbery of 
Man—Slavery a Cowardly Institution—Prejudice of Race—City, 
Plantation, and hired-out Country slaves—A Black Rothschild— 
Why the Southern Ladies are Pro-slavery—A Poem by William 
I eC GAs eae lls Che eee ccess veeck wise ee 177-188 


Meteo RD. TREP. 


J.— Missouri. 


Lynching an Abolitionist—Parkville—Col. Park—The Mob in Court 
—The Victim—Evidence—Ruffian Law Pleas—Different modes of 
Punishment proposed—The Lynching done—Riding on a Rail, 

189-198 


II.—A Journey IN VIRGINIA. 


From Boston to Washington—Sail to Alexandria—First Impressions 
—The County Papers—Choice extracts—Mr. Patterson’s Reasons 
for declining—aA Slave Girl’s Revenge—Price of Personal Estate— 
My Room-Talk with a Slave Girl—Eli Thayer’s Scheme—Virginia 
Political Economy—Alexandria County—Talk with a Slave, 

199-212 


IJJ.—Farrrax County. 


Alexandria—Final Views—Suburbs of Alexandria—A small Farm— 
Cost of Slave Labor—An Absentee Farm—Farming in Virginia— 
Talk about Free Labor—Irishmen in Virginia—Irish Girls as Helps 
—Northern Emigrants—Notes by the Way—Talk with a Slave—A 
nigger ’s worth a hundred dollars first time he can holler, 213-225 


Xiv CONTENTS. 


IV.—Fairrax County. 


Fairfax Court House—A White Slave—His Story—Northern Rene- 
gades—Price of Inanimate Real Estate—Free and Slave Labor—A 
Virginian on Yankees—System of Farming—Amalgamation— 
Hordes of Abolitionists, perhaps, in Virginia,........... 226-535 


V.—Favgquier County, ETC. 


Prince William County—Facts—Education and Theologism—A Free 
Colored Farmer—Ignorance of People—Negro driving of Horses— 
In H el!—Need of White Labor—Charlottesville,....... 236-244 


VI.—RIcHMOND. 


Richmond—Christian Advertisements—A Sign of the Times—The 
Slave Auction Room—The Auctioneer—A Boy Sold—‘ Been exam- 
ining her”—‘‘ How Niggers has riz” —Jones and Slater—A Mother 
on the Block—A young Spartan Maiden—A Curse on Virginia, 


245-254 


IN MY SANCTUS 


I.—GENERAL RESULTS. 


Another Trip to come—Physical Science and Slavery—No hope of 
Abolition from Scientific Development—Nor from Prevention of 
Extension—Character of the Field Negroes—Degradation—Licen- 
tiousness—Prevalence of Amalgamation—Liars—Slave Huts filthy 
—Deception—Pious Slaves—Free Negroes—Slave Preachers—An 
extract from a Colored Doctor’s Sermon—A Boy’s Mistress—The 
Poor Whites and Slavery—Crowding poor People out—An Alabama 
Farmer's Story—Southern Pauperism—Slaves, not Negroes, who 
are lazy —Overseers—Their general Character—Southern Testimony 
—Sometimes selected with special reference to their robust physi- 
cal Condition to improve the Stock—The Southern Slave Code— 
How it fosters Cruelty and prevents its Punishment—Women em- 
ployed at Field Labor—A Negro burned to Death—No Chance of 
Justice for Negroes in courts of law against White Men—A South- 


CONTENTS.. XV 


ern Gubernatorial Confession of this fact—Slave Breeding—Col. 
Benton’s Statement refuted by Statistics—A Southern Confession— 
Who hate Negroes in the Southern States—Can the Southern Sta- 
ples be cultivated without Slavery?—Proof that they can be—Gene- 
ral Summary in one celebrated Sentence,.............. 255-268 


IJ.—Tue InsurReEcTION CHIEF. 


This Chapter is a Contribution by the Hon. J. C. Vaughan, formerly 
of South Carolina, now of Kansas: once a Southern Slaveholder, 
now one of the truest Champions of Freedom in the Nation. It is 

Ts graphic picture of the terror caused by the rumor of an Insurrec- 
tion, and a vivid sketch of the character of a noble Negro Patriot 
who was betrayed in an attempt to liberate his race,..... 269-283 


III.—U. G. T. 


A Southern Underground Telegraph—How it began—lIts efficacy 
attested by a Southern Gentleman—Its future Destiny,... 284-287 


IV.—Tue Dismat Swamp. 


A Contribution by Mrs. Knox, of Boston—Story of a Canadian Fugi- 
tive—W hy. ——— ran away—Slave Shrewdness—The Slave parts 
with his Mother—Runs to the Dismal Swamp—Character of the 
Runaways there—Description of the Swamp—Wild Animals—The 
Fugitive’s Wife—Preaching and Praying in the Swamp—The Slave 
Hunters—Murder of Jacob,..............008. Het SEE . 288-295 


e 


V.—ScENES IN A SLAVE PRISON, 


Extract from a Private Letter from Dr. 8S. G. Howe, of Boston, to 
Senator Charles Sumner, describing a Visit to the Prison of New 
Orleans, and published by permission of the writer,...... 296-298 


VI.—My Ossecr. 


A Review of the present state of the Anti-Slavery battle—Some Re- 
commendations, and a closing Question,.... .......... 299-306 


xvi CONTENTS. 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 


I. 


History of the First Female Slave in Kansas,.........-.... 807-324 


II. 


Felons in Fodder: a Historical Sketch of the Federal Officers in 
Kansas, soe ee eeereer eevee erceereerveeereer Geese e@reeeee e@ereene 825-342 


a 


? Il. 


Slave-Hunting in Kansas—Fate of the Shannon Guards, ... 348-849 


Powe ciao TRIP. 





I 


A WORD BEFORE STARTING. 


I wave visited the Slave States several times—thrice 
on an anti-slavery errand. First, in 1854. I sailed to 
Richmond, Virginia, from New York city; travelled by 
railroad to Wilmington, North Carolina; and from 
that port by sea to the city of Charleston. I remained . 
there two weeks—during the session of the Southern 
Commercial Convention. I then sailed to Savannah, 
where I resided three months, when I returned direct 
to New York city. 

My second journey was performed in the autumn 
of the same year. It was rather an extended pedes- 
trian tour—reaching from Richmond, _ Virginia, to 
Montgomery, Alabama. 

My third journey was performed last oan, and 
was confined to Virginia. My letters, descriptive of 
this journey were published in the Boston Daily Tra- 
veller. They are somewhat different from my pre- 


vious sketches, relating chiefly to the influence of 
1 1 


9 THE ROVING EDITOR 


slavery on the agriculture, education, and material 
prosperity of a State. Reports of my talks with the 
slaves occupy in them a subordinate position. 

In this volume alone, of all American anti-slavery 
or other books, the bondman has been enabled, in 
his own language, (if I may employ the familiar 
phrase of political essayists and orators), to “ define 
his position on the all-engrossing question of the 
day.” Almost everybody has done it. Why, then, 
should not he? Surely fe has some interest in it, 
even if it be “subject to the Constitution ;” even if 
his interest is unfortunately in conflict with ‘the 
sacred compromises of the federal Compact!” 

My object in travelling was, in part, to recruit my 
health, but chiefly to see slavery with my own eyes, 
and personally to learn what the bondmen said and 
thought of their condition. 

My conversations with the slaves were written 
down as soon after they occurred as was convenient ; 
occasionally, indeed, in stenographic notes, as the 
negroes spoke to me. 

It will be seen that I do not aim at a literary repu- 
tation. J have only plain truths to tell—only plain 
words to tell them in. My mission was a humble 
one—to report. I claim no other merit than fidelity 
to that duty. 

I most solemnly declare here, that in no one in- 
stance have! I sought either to darken or embellish 
the truth—to add to, subtract from, or pervert a single 
statement of the slaves. There may be, scattered 
throughout these pages, a few minor inaccuracies ; 
but I assure the reader, on my honor as a gentleman, 
that if there are any errors of fact, or other errors, I 
am totally unconscious of them. I believe this book, 


IN VIRGINIA. 3 


as it leaves my hand, to be a volume of truths, unde- 
formed by a single falsehood, or even the most trivial 
mis-statement. 

Let these few words suffice for a preface. 


I START—MY VOYAGE. 


The good steamship Roanoke, after a very plea- 
sant voyage, in the month of March, 1854, arrived 
at Richmond early in the morning. 

I landed and strolled about the city. Of the voy- 
age and of the city I intend to say nothing. There 
are books enough that treat of such themes. I shall 
write of the slave class only, or of subjects that re- 
late to their condition. 


THOUGHTS IN A GRAVEYARD. 


Therefore, one word on the cemetery, which was 
the first public place I visited. J wondered at the 
absence of all headstones to colored persons deceased. 
Julius Caesar, Hannibal, George Washington and 
Pompey, had no representatives among the citizens 
interred—none, at least, whose monuments pro- 
claimed and preserved their names. 

I inquired where the “slave quarter ” was. ‘ 

“Why,” I was told, “in the nigger burying- 
ground. You don’t suppose we allow slaves to be 
buried here?” 

I did suppose so, in my ignorance of southern 
customs, but soon discovered that I greatly erred. 
In every southern city that I have visited since (and 
I believe the rule universally prevails), the whites 
and the slaves and free people of color have separate 
places of interment. 


4. THE ROVING EDITOR 


Cemeteries are separated ; churches are pewed off; 
theatres are galleried off: I wonder now, (between 
ourselves and in strictest confidence), if Heaven, 
likewise, is constructed and arranged with special re- 
ference to this hostility of races and conditions of life ? 
In the many mansions of the Heavenly Father, will 
there be sets of apartments for Africans exclusively 
—in the parlance of the play-bills, “for respectable 
colored persons?” If there are not, and if the South- 
ern proslavery divines ever get there, we may ex- 
pect a second Satanic rebellion against Authority so 
indifferent to the finer feelings—the refined sensi- 
bilities—of the slaveholding saints. With such a 
doughty champion as Mr. Parson Brownlow, in the 
character of Beelzebub, the coming conflict must be 
terrible indeed, and will require as its historian, a 
genius more exalted by far than the author of Para- 
dise Lost. ‘May I be there to see!” 


A SHERIFF’S ADVERTISEMENT. 


I walked from the cemetery to the Court House, 
accompanied some distance by a slave, who was 
whistling, as he drove along, a popular line, which 
faithfully describes his lot in life: 


“ Jordan am a hard road to trabble!” 


Undoubtedly, I mused; and so, too, was the Red 
Sea to the Egyptians! 

I intended to attend the Mayor’s Court, but 
when I reached the hall his honor had not yet 
arrived. | 

On the outer door of the hall, was posted a manu- 
script advertisement. of which I have preserved a 
verbatim copy. Here it is: 


IN VIRGINIA. 5 


“SHERIFF’S SALE. 


** Will be sold, to the Highest Bidder, on the 2d Monday in April, 
next, at the City Hall, commencing at 12 o’clock noon, a Negro Boy, 
named Willis, to satisfy two Executions, in my hands, against Aaron 


T. Burton.” 
‘‘ Puittip Biomstovy, S. D.” 


After transcribing this atrocious advertisement, I 
walked to the auction rooms in Wall street and that 
vicinity. 

A SLAVE SALE. 


The first apartment that I entered was an old, long, 
low, whitewashed, damp-looking room, of which the 
ceiling was supported by three wooden pillars. There 
were between thirty and forty white persons present. 
Seven or eight living chattels were “on sale, for cash, 
to the highest bidder.” 

The sale commenced almost immediately after I 
made my appearance in the shambles. The first Ar- 
ticle offered was a girl twelve years of age. She was 
dressed in a small-checked tartan frock, a white apron 
and a light-colored handkerchief. She was mounted 
with the auctioneer on a wooden stand, four steps 
high. The audience was standing or sitting on forms 
in different parts of the room. 

The auctioneer was a middle-aged, fair-com- 
plexioned man, with light-blue, lazy-looking eyes, 
who drawled out, rather than uttered his words, and 
chewed an enormous quid of tobacco with a patient 
and persevering industry that was worthy of a nobler 
cause. 

“Gentlemen,” said the body-seller, “here’s a girl 
twelve years old, warranted sound and strong—what 
d’ye bid to start her?” 


6 THE ROVING EDITOR 


For at least ten minutes, notwithstanding all the 
lazily-uttered laudations of the auctioneer, the “ gentle- 
men” who composed the audience did not bid a 
single cent to start her. 

‘*Come here,” said a dark-complexioned man of 
thirty, whose face mirrored a hard, grasping, unsym- 
pathetic nature, “come here, gal.” 

‘Get down,” drawled the auctioneer. 

The girl descended and went to the dark man, who 
was sitting with his face toward the back of his 
chair. 

“How old are you?” said the fellow, as he felt 
beneath the young girl’s chin and pinched her arms, 
for the purpose probably of ascertaining for himself 
whether she was as sound and strong as she was 
warranted to be. 

“T don’t know how old I’m,” replied the chattel.* 

“Can you count yer fingers?” demanded the dark 
man. 

“Yes,” returned the chattel, as she took hold, first 
of her thumb, then of her forefinger, and lastly of her 
ring-finger, ‘‘ one—three—-two—five.” 

“Youre wrong! Tut. Take care,” interposed a 
mulatto, the slave or servant of the auctioneer, as he 
accompanied her hand from finger to finger. ‘ Now 
try agin—one—two” 

* One,” began the girl, “ two—three-sfoumemiver” 

Fé She'll apis en do,” said the dark man, who 
appeared perfectly satisfied with her educational 
attainments. 





* Slaves shall be deemed sold, taken, reputed and adjudged in law 
to be chattels personal in the hands of their owners and possessors, 
and their executors, administrators and assigns, to all intent and 
purpose whatsoever.—Code of South Carolina. 


IN VIRGINIA. ; Y 4 


“Gentlemen! will none o’ ye make a bid to start 
this gal?” asked the auctioneer, in an indolently im- 
ploring tone. 

“ Four-fifty,” said the dark man. 

“Four-fifty’s bid, gentlemen, for this gal—four- 
fifty—four hundred and fifty dollars—four-fifty—four- 
fifty—four-fifty—four-fifty—four hundred and fifty— 
four hundred end fifty dollars—four hundred and 
fifty dollars bid—going at four hundred end fifty 
dollars” 

“Sixty,” said a dirty-looking, unshaven man, with 
a narrow-brimmed hat on, who looked so tall and 
slim as to induce the belief that he must be the cele- ' 
brated son of A Gun so often spoken of in the quar- 
rels of the Bowery boys. 

“Sixty !” repeated the auctioneer; “ four-sixty— 
four-sixty—four-sixty—four hundred and sixty—four 
hundred end sixty dollars bid—going at four hundred 
and sixty dollars, and gone—if—there is no—other 
bid—four h-u-u-n-dred endé ” 

“Seventy !” said the dark man. 

I need not continue the report. 

To induce the buyers present to purchase her, 
the girl was ordered to go down a second time, to 
walk about, and to hold up her head. She was 
finally knocked down to Mr. Philorifle, of the 
narrow-brimmed hat, for five hundred end fifty dol- 
lars. 

The second lot consisted of a young man, who was 
started at seven hundred dollars, and sold for eight 
hundred and ninety-five dollars. 

“A thousand dollar nigger”—so the auctioneer 
styled a strong, healthy, athletic specimen of South- 
ern flesh-goods, was the next piece of merchandise 








8 THE ROVING EDITOR 


offered for sale; but as not more than eight hundred 
dollars were bid for him, he was reserved for a more 
convenient season. 

A mulatto—a kind-looking man of forty-five—was 
next put up; but no bids were made for him. 

“'That’s all, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer, as he 
descended from his Southern platform—this truly 
“national” and “democratic platform ”—“I don’t 
think I can offer you any thing else to-day.” 

“This way—over the way, gentlemen!” tolled a 
strong, iron-toned voice at the door. 

We went over the way into another auction-room 
(at the corner of the streets), and saw two young 
female children sold into life-long slavery ; doomed 
to forego, whenever and as often as their masters 
willed it, all true domestic happiness in this world ; 
condemned to total ignorance of the pleasures of | 
knowledge, of home, of liberty; sentenced to be 
whipped, imprisoned, or corrupted, as the anger, the 
caprice, or the lust of their buyers deemed proper ; 
forced to see their husbands lashed, their daughters 
polluted, their sons sold into distant States. ‘ God 
bless you, Mrs. Stowe!” I involuntarily ejaculated 
in the slave shambles, as I saw these children sold, 
and thought of their sad prospective fate. 

I entered a third room. One man, about twenty- 
five years of age, “warranted sound and strong,” 
was sold for seven hundred dollars. He was a cap- 
tured runaway. The owner, or rather the trustee of 
this slave, cut quite a conspicuous figure in the room. 
A. little, Dutch-built, blue-eyed man, very limber 
indeed both of limb and tongue. He strutted about, 
with a little stick in his hand, now here, now there; 
talking incessantly and to everybody: his light- 


IN VIRGINIA. 9 


colored overcoat, like the white plume of Henry of 
Navarre, always visible in the thickest of the crowd. 

It would express but a faint idea of his state of 
mind, were I to say that he was somewhat agitated. 
Very faint, indeed. Angry is equally inexpressive. 
“Mad to the bung and biling over,” although it 
has not the sanction of classical. usage, is the only 
phrase which is at all appropriate to the little man’s 
mental condition. 

“Would you believe it, sir!” he snapped at me; 
“he actually ran away; I offered one hundred dol- 
lars reward, too, and I didn’t hear tell of him for 
two years and three months!” 

I could hardly suppress a smile at the little man’s 
ludicrously angry expression, as I thought of the 
very virtuous offence that the cause of his indigna- 
tion had committed. As I saw that he expected me 
to say something, I exclaimed: 

“Really! Two years and three months. Where 
did you find him finally ? 

“In a saloon at Petersburg!” he said; “where” 
—here he raised his voice so that every one could 
hear him— where, I dare say, the fellow made as 
good mint juleps as anybody need drink!” 

I saw that the slave was standing behind the plat- 
form—which in ¢izs room was about five feet high— 
and that he was surrounded by a crowd of spec- 
tators. I left the little man angry and went up to 
the crowd. 

Perhaps, my readers, you may be disposed to doubt 
what I am about to add—but it is a God’s truth, not- 
withstanding its obstinate non-conformity with some 
Northern “South-side” views of Slavery. 

The slave was dressed in his pantaloons, shirt_and 

1* 


10 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


vest. His vest was removed and his breast and neck 
exposed. His shoes and stockings were next taken 
off and his legs beneath the knees examined. His 
other garment was then loosened, and his naked body, 
from the upper part of the abdomen to the knees, 
was shamelessly exhibited to the view of the spec- 
tators. 

“Turn round!” said the body-seller. 

The negro obeyed, and his uncovered body from 
the shoulders to the calves of his legs was laid bare 
to criticism. 

Not a word, not a look of disgust condemned this 
degrading, demoralizing and cowardly exhibition. 

“You see, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer, “he’s 
perfectly sound and a very finely formed nigger.” 

He was sold for $700—about two-thirds only of 
the price he would have brought, if his masters _ 
could have given him that certificate of soulless 
manhood which the Southrons style, when they refer 
to the existence of the passive-obedience spirit in a 
slave, “a good character.” , 

A good name is a very unfortunate thing for a 
negro to possess. I determined, then and there, in 
my future intercourse with slaves, to urge them to 
cultivate as a religious duty all the habits which 
would speedily brand them as men of bad morals! 

These scenes occurred on the 30th of March, 1854. 


II. 


TALK WITH A FREE NEGRO. 


Iy walking along one of the streets of Richmond, 
I was suddenly overtaken by a shower. I went into 
the store of a fruiterer and confectioner. He was a 
free man of color. I soon entered into a conversation 
with him, ascertained his history, and learned many 
valuable facts of the condition of the slaves of Rich- 
mond and vicinity. 


A COLORED LIBERATOR. 


He was a mulatto of about thirty-five years of age. 
His eyes and his conversation showed him to be a 
person kind hearted yet resolute of purpose. The 
tone of his voice, the expression of his face, bespoke 
a man familiar with sorrow and cares. He was very 
intelligent and used exceedingly few negro phrases. 
He had been a slave, but had bought his freedom ; 
and since that time had purchased his wife, brother, 
sister-in-law, with her husband and their two young 
children. He had been rather favored as a slave. 
He had had a kind proprietor, who had permitted 
him to hire himself—that is to say, to pay to his 
master a certain sum monthly for the use of his own 
bodily strength and mental faculties, retaining as his 


own funds whatever he might make “over and above” 
11 


12 THE ROVING EDITOR 


the sum thus agreed upon between them. He had 
been a porter at a popular hotel, and was lucky 
enough to soon save sufficient with which to purchase 
his freedom from his owner. The next money he 
got was expended on articles of traffic. He prospered 
in his small retail trade, and with its earliest profits 
he purchased his wife. 

What a low state of morals, by the way, does it 
indicate, when a robber, 2 fact, of the lion’s share 
of a poor man’s wages is spoken of as a kind and in- 
dulgent master! How unspeakably mean, too, to 
live on money thus ungenerously taken from the 
hard hands of lowly, unprotected toil! 

“You have acted nobly,” I said to him, “in buying 
seven persons from slavery, and you must have been 
very lucky to be able to do it, as well as to buy this 
house.” (He had told me that he owned the house- 
and shop we were in.) 

“Ah, sir!” said the good man, in a sad tone, “I 
wish I could do something more effectual. It’s all I 
live for. No one,” he added, “can have any idea 
of how our people are persecuted here, only on ac- 
count of their color.” 


OPPRESSIVE LAWS AND ORDINANCES. 


“Indeed !” I said, “I wish you would tell me some 
of the methods employed by the whites in persecuting 
your people. J will publish them.” 

He named a host of them, from which I selected 
at the time the following particulars : 

1. The oath of a colored man, whether free or a 
slave, is not admissible in courts of justice. There- 
fore, 


IN VIRGINIA. 13 


If a white man owes a debt to a person of color, 
and refuses to pay it, it is impossible for the creditor 
to resort to legal remedies in order to collect it. 

If a white man, from any cause or motive—for 
the purpose, for example, of extorting money— 
chooses to swear before a court that any colored 
person, whether free or slave, has been insolent to 
him, he can cause the unfortunate object of his malice 
to be whipped by the public officers. 

If a worthless vagabond, with a white skin, how- 
ever black his heart may be, enters the store of a 
free man of color, and steals, even before the owner's 
eyes, any articles from it, the unfortunate merchant 
has no legal remedy, unless a white man saw the 
property thus feloniously appropriated—for the fear 
of the municipal lash restrains him from entering a 
public complaint or resenting the robbery on the 
spot. ; 

Thus the blacks are always at the mercy of the 
whites—a position which no uncolored person, I am 
sure, would be willing to occupy. 

In stating these facts, my informant related an in- 
cident which I shall narrate here, as it is at once a 
most striking illustration of the injustice sometimes 
practised by “our Southern brethren” toward their 
colored fellow creatures, and serves to show the 
practical workings of the laws relating to the oaths 
of persons of the subjugated race. 

A few weeks before this interview, a white man 
went to the green market and was putting some 
vegetable—parsley, I believe—in his basket, when 
the colored woman in attendance asked him if he 
had measured it? He turned round fiercely and asked 
what she meant by insulting him! Next day he 


14 THE ROVING EDITOR 


took out a warrant, had the market woman brought 
before the mayor, and swore positively, as did his 
son also, that she had used insolent and abusive 
language to him. She would have been whipped, 
as usual, and had her sentence chronicled in the 
papers as the punishment of a ‘worthless free 
negro,” if several white persons, who were present at 
the time and knew her to be an honest inoffensive 
soul, had not promptly stepped up and swore that 
she was innocent of the offence charged by the 
plaintiff. She was therefore discharged; but the 
cowardly perjurers were not even reprimanded. 

2. Although free men of color pay the same muni- 
cipal taxes levied on white citizens, they are not 
only prohibited from exercising any influence in 
elections, but from entering the public square or the 
white man’s cemetery. 

3. They are prohibited from carrying any offensive 
or defensive weapons. 

4, They are not allowed to go abroad after sunset, 
without a written permit from their owners or carry- 
ing their papers of freedom. 

5. If they violate these regulations they are im- 
-prisoned until claimed by their masters, if slaves, or 
visited and liberated by their friends, if free. If they 
are free but without friends to attend to their inter- 
ests—hear this and defend it if ye can, ye “ Northern 
men with Southern principles”’—they are kept in 
jail for a certain time, and then—God help them— 
they are sold into slavery to pay the expenses incurred 
by the city by keeping them incarcerated. Not 
many years ago, a Jree girl from the opposite side of 
the river, incautiously entered the city of Richmond 
without her certificate of freedom. She was arrested, 


IN VIRGINIA. 15 


kept in prison forty days, and then sold into per- 
petual bondage, for the Southern crime known as 
“being at large!” ‘ How long, O Lord, how long?” 
How long, O North, how long? 

6. All assemblages of colored men, consisting of 
more than five persons, are illegal, and sever ely 
punished by the administrators of Southern um-jus- 
tice. This ordinance is strictly enforced. 

7. Women of color are compelled to endure every 
species of insult. White boys often spit on their 
dresses as they are going to chapel; and when they 
meet a colored female out of doors after sunset, they 
conduct themselves still more grossly. 

These are a few—a very few—of the outrages 
which the colored freeman is expected to endure and 
does submit to in the civilized, theologized, church- 
studded city of Richmond, in the middle of the nine- 
teenth century. Strange—is it not? Yet, in the 
free States of the North, the name of Abolitionist is 
frequently used as a by-word of reproach. Stranger 
still—is it not ? 


HOW VERY CONTENTED THE SLAVES ARE. 


In the course of the conversation in which these 
facts were mentioned, I stated to my companion that 
I had frequently heard the defenders and apologists 
of Southern crime in the Northern States, confidently 
declare that the slaves were perfectly contented 
with their lot, and would not willingly exchange it 
for freedom. I asked him if the slaves of Richmond 
were contented with their condition ? 

* No, sir,” said the merchant with unusual energy, 
“they are not. I know the most of them. Tve 
lived here for thirty years. First, in a hotel where 


16 THE ROVING EDITOR 


I used to meet dozens of them every day, and in my 
store, here, where I see hundreds from every part of 
the city and the country all the time. Zhey are as 
discontented as they can be. There’s a. few of them, 
though, who are poor ignorant creatures, and have 
good masters, don’t care anything about freedom.” 

“Tow many do you suppose?” I asked; ‘one 
quarter of them ?” 

“No, sir,” said the storekeeper, energetically ; 
“‘not more than one-tenth.” 

“What! you don’t mean to say that not more 
than over one-tenth of the slaves have good masters ?” 

“No, sir,” he answered; “but I do say that those 
who have good masters are as little contented as those 
who have bad masters.” 

BOW hiy 602” 

“ind treatment is a good thing, but it isn’t 
liberty, sir; and colored people dort want that kind 
of privileges » they want their rights.” 

“Do you think,” I asked, “that this feeling of dis- 
content is as strong in the country as in the city ?” 

“No; not so strong,” he returned. “In the city 
they are more intelligent, and the discontented sen- 
timent is stronger, because the colored people have 
more chance of talking to one another about their 
hardships.” 

“Do you think,” I inquired, “that the feelings of 
discontent have increased during your recollection?” 


ABOUT RUNAWAYS. 


“Oh, yes, sir,” he rejoined, “it has increased a 
hundred times, especially within the last eight years. 
When I was.a boy, the colored people didn’t think 


IN VIRGINIA. 1? 


much about freedom, because they were allowed a 
great deal of liberty; but now it seems as if the laws 
were becoming worse and worse for us every day; 
we can’t enjoy anything now; we can’t have the 
social meetings as we used to have; and now I tell 
you, sir, the colored people do think about it a good 
deal. They run away every good chance they can 
get. I know about a hundred that’s gone North 
since last New Year; most of them got away alto- 
gether, and plenty’s ready to follow them.” 

* Do any of them return ?” 

‘No, sir,” said the freeman, “they’ve too much 
sense for that! You can’t tell anything at all about 
the colored people from what the papers say. 
Whenever one comes back any whar’, they make a 
string of remarks about it so long.” He measured 
about half a yard with his right hand on his left arm. 
“But,” he added, “they don’t say nothing about 
them that run away—hundreds—and never come 
back agin! And jist look at the paragraphs about 
the trials at the courts here. It’s always ‘a worth- 
less negro,’ or ‘a worthless free negro.’ They allers 
say that, no difference what his character is, or 
what the character of the white man who appears 
against him is.” 

He pointed to a paragraph of this kind in the 
Dispatch, and gave me a proof that the white aceuser 
of the “ worthless free negro” named in it,was a man 
of the most disreputable character. 


THE AFRICAN CHURCH. 


“JT was advised,” I said, “by a pro-slavery man to 
visit the African Church. Is it a splendid concern ?” 


18 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Yes, sir,” he rejoined, “it’s a very fine church. 
I thought they would tell you to go there! They 
allus do. That’s an old game of theirs—‘Go to 
the African Church’ they allus say to strangers, — 
‘and see how happy our slaves are, and how well 
they dress.’ When I was living at the hotel, Ive 
of’en heerd them say so to strangers. Once a gentle- 
man from the North said to me, ‘ Well, you people 
of color seem very happy.. I was at your church 
to-day, and I really never did see a better dressed, 
or a happier-looking congregation.’ Them was his 
words. 

“¢¢ Yes, massa,’ I said, ‘but appearances is deceit- 
ful. You don’t see their hearts. Many of them 
that you saw there with happy-looking faces had 
heavy hearts and raw backs. 'They’re not all slaves 
either, as they tell you they are; one half of them’s 
free people.’ 

“«¢ But they look happy,’ the gentleman said. 

“¢ Very true massa,’ says I, ‘so they do; Sunday’s 
the only happy day they have. That’s the only time 
they have a chance of being all together. They’re 
not allowed to ’sociate on any other day.’” 

“By whom,” I asked, “is this African Church 
supported ?” 

“‘ By the colored people.” 

“You have a colored preacher, of course ?” 

“Oh, no;”. said the storekeeper, “ colored people 
are not allowed to enter the pulpit in Virginia. 
(I have forgotten the name), a colored 
clergyman, once attempted it, but they put him in 
jail.” 

‘¢ How much do you pay your preacher ?” 








IN VIRGINIA. 19 


DEITY VINDICATED AGAINST A DIVINE. 


“Six hundred dollars a year,” he replied; “but 
we don’t elect him. We have nothing to do with the 
church but to go there, pay all the taxes, and listen 
to sermons bout submission to the will of God.” 

“ Does he often expatiate on that duty ?” 

“ Very often—very often. One day I heard him 
say that God had given all this continent to the white 
man, and that it was our duty to submit.” 

“Do the colored people,” I inquired, “ believe all 
that sort of thing ?” 

‘Oh, no, sir,” he returned; “‘ one man whispered 
to me as the minister said that, 

“< He be d——d! God am not sich a fool !?” 

* Who elects your minister ?” 

He explained at considerable length, but I lost the 
greater part of his answer in thinking about the skep- 
tical negro’s vindication of the ways of Providence 
in its dealings with the colored children of men. I 
understood him to say that the church was governed 
by a board of trustees elected by all the churches in 
the city. Certain it is, that the people who pay the 
church expenses have neither part nor lot in the 
government of the church. 

“Some time since,” said the storekeeper, “ they 
told us we might have the church for thou- 
sand dollars. (I have forgotten the sum he named.) 
Well, we raised it somehow or other, and got the 
building ; but then we didn’t get the right of choos- 
ing our own minister, as we expected.” 

“Does your white minister always preach to suit 
the slaveholders ?” 





20 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“ Yes, sir,” he said, “ always. He wouldn’t be al- 
lowed to preach at all if he didn’t.” 


HOW DO UNTO OTHERS, ETC., FARED. 


The wife of the storekeeper hitherto had taken no 
part in the conversation. She interrupted her hus- 
band, and told me the history of a Northern preacher 
at present officiating in the city of New York, who 
was forced to leave Richmond because he once se- 
lected as a text, “ Do unto others as ye would that 
others should do unto you.” He is devotedly loved 
by the colored people of the city, and has cause to be 
proud of the hatred of the traffickers in human kind. 
When this clergyman first came to Richmond, he said 
nothing offensive to the human-property-holders. 
He paid a visit to New England, and came back 
what hitherto he had only nominally been—a Christ- 
jan minister. The first text he selected, after his re- 
turn to the city, was the Golden Rule. He com- 
menced his sermon by saying that he had recently 
visited the scenes of his childhood and his early love ; 
had knelt once more in the Christian church where 
he first experienced the spirit of religion; had looked 
upon the walls of the college where he had been 
trained to fight the good fight of faith ; and had stood 
at the grave of his sainted mother. He had felt . 
there, he said, that hitherto he had not done his duty 
as a Christian clergyman, but he was determined 
now, with the aid of the Holy Spirit, to atone, by his 
future zeal, for his shortcomings in by-gone days. 
He then spoke of the free colored girl who had been 
sold into slavery for having unfortunately forgotten 
to carry her certificate of freedom: (the instance that 


IN VIRGINIA. 21 


I have already cited). It had just occurred. 
“ Brethren,” he exclaimed, in the enthusiasm of his 
newly-awakened zeal, “that was not ‘doing unto 
others as we would that others should do unto us!” 
Before retiring to rest that night, he received forty 
letters of remonstrance from as many different mem- 
bers of his congregation. He was obliged to leave 
the city. Richmond, with true old Virginia pluck, 
would not submit to be reproved for her “ peculiar ” 
sins by a Northern Christian preacher. 

The wife asked me if I was acquainted with the 
minister. 

“Tam not,” I said, “ but perhaps I may have seen 
him in New York.” 

She went up stairs, and brought down a litho- 
graphic portrait of him, which. she handled with a 
loving care, and looked at with an admiring regard, 
of which any public man might well have been 
proud. 

* Such a testimonial,” I said, “ oh! Douglas, prince 
of demagogues—breaker of sacred compacts for the 
sake of slavery—is more to be desired than ten thou- 
sand Presidencies. Such a testimonial—nay thou- 
sands of the like—you, during your life-time, might 
easily have earned, if, regardless of morality, duty, 
self-respect, you had not basely sold your soul for the 
chance of an office !” 


THE POOR WHITES AND SLAVERY. 

I asked the storekeeper whether the poorer white 
population of Richmond were in favor of slavery or 
against it ? 

“That’s a question,” he replied, “that can’t be 
answered very easily. Hundreds have said to me, 


22 THE ROVING EDITOR 


when they came into the store, that they detested 
slavery; but they never talk about it to white 
people: theyre afraid to do so!” 

“ Afraid to do so!” Think of that, ye New Eng- 
land sons of revolutionary sires! In America, “ the 
land of the free and home of the brave ;” free white 
men of the haughty Saxon race are “ afraid ” to ex- 
press their opinions. Ah! Southern rights are 
human wrongs ! 


NORTH AND SOUTH—RECIPROCAL AMENITIES. 


The abolitionists of the North are often accused of 
malignantly misrepresenting the sentiments and the 
character of the people of the South. I was in- 
formed by the storekeeper, whose conversation I 
have been reporting, that the citizens of Richmond 
very zealously inculcate on the minds of their slaves 
that all that the Northern abolitionists want with them 
is to sell and cruelly treat them. The North is pic- 
tured to them as a place of punishment—a terrestrial 
hell—where negroes are abused, starved, and kicked 
‘ about for the amusement of the white race. Avboli- 
tionist with them is the synonym for all that is vile 
and odious in human nature. 

The freeman then asked me the true character of 
the people of the North ? 

I answered as an admirer of her character, princi- 
ples and institutions might be expected to reply. 

He asked if there was any disrespect shown to 
people of color ? 

I love the North, but I worship truth. Why will 
-you, men of the North, seal the lips of your southern 
friends by your conduct to the free men of color 
among you? Ah! if you knew what affectionate 


IN VIRGINIA. 28 


natures, what noble aspirations, what warm, pure, 
loving hearts beat beneath the bosoms of the negroes 
of the North, you would not, you could not harbor 
much longer the disgraceful and relentless prejudices 
that now keep you aloof like national enemies during 
the prevalence of a temporary truce. 


I will not extend this report of our conversation any 
further. I will merely mention that I was advised 
by my colored friend to associate as much as possi- 
ble with the free colored people, if I wished to ascer- 
tain the real sentiments of the slave population on 
the subject of slavery. 

“‘Some of the slaves,” he said, “ will distrust you ; 
so will some of the free people; but don’t form your 
opinion until you ask lots of them. You'll soon see, 
sir, how discontented they all are.” 

I have followed his advice: with what result will 
be seen. 

Of this man, let me add all that I now know. The 
next time that I visited Richmond, I found him in 
great distress: he had recently lost his wife. On my 
third visit, I found that he had sold out and gone to 
Philadelphia. 


THE CONTENTED SLAVE. 


In Richmond I found one contented slave. As I 
was going to the theatre (as I was ascending Monu- 
ment street), I overtook a negro boy of ae, eight 
years of age. 

“ Come here, Bob,” I said. 

I had almost passed him. As he did not come im- 
mediately I turned round. He was leaning on the 


24. THE ROVING EDITOR 


rails of the public park, grinning from ear to ear— 
looking, in fact, like an incarnate grin. 

“¢ He-he-he-e-e-e-he-eh-eee !” grinned Bob. 

“Come here, Bob,” I repeated. 

Bobby approached and took hold of my extended 
hand. 

“ What’s your name, Bob 2” 

“ Bill,” he grinned. 

“<'What’s your other name?” 

“ Hain’t got none!” said Bill. 

“ Are youva free boy ?” 

“No, Tse a slave.” 

“Have you a father and a mother ?” 

“Yes, he-he-e-e-he!” grinned Bill. 

*‘' Who do you belong to 2?” 

“Mrs. Snooks,” said Bill. 

“‘ Would you like to be free and go North?” 

“No!” he said, “I wouldn’t go North; I don’t 
want to be free; he-he-he-ee-e !” 

“ Were you ever sold?” I asked. 

“No,” he returned, ‘‘ Mrs. Snooks* never sold her 
slaves all her life. J don’t see what good sellin’ slaves 
does,” he added. 

“NorI! . . +. ‘Never sold a slave in her life’ 

Bill?” I asked with appropriate solemnity ; 
“will you tell your mistress that a Northerner said 
she was a trump?” 

“Yes,” grinned Bill, “Tl tell her: he-he-he-e-e-e,” 
and he ran away trilling off his grins as he went 
along. 

So much for the Old Dominion. 


“ He gave her real name: of course, I adopt instead a generic title. 


IN VIRGINIA. 25 


A Corroporation.—“ They (the blacks) invariably give way 
to the white people they meet. Once, when two of them, en- 
gaged in conversation, and looking at each other, had not no- 
ticed his approach, I saw a Virginian gentleman lift his cane 
and push a woman aside with it. In the evening I saw three 
rowdies, arm in arm, taking the whole of the sidewalk, hustle a 
black man off it, giving him a blow as they passed that sent 
him staggering into the middle of the street. As he recovered 
himself he began to call out to, and threaten them—‘ Can’t 
you find anything else to do than to be knockin’ quiet people 
round? You jus’ come back here, will you? Here! you! 
don’t care if you is white. You jus’ come back here and I'll 
teach you how to behavye—knockin’ people round!—don’t care 
if I does hab to go to der watch house.’ They passed on with- 
out noticing him further, only laughing jeeringly. . . I observe 
in the newspapers complaints of growing insolence and insub- 
ordination among the negroes, arising, it is thought, from too 
many privileges being permitted them by their masters (!) and 
from too merciful administration of the police laws with regard 
to them. Except in this instance, however, I have not seen the 
slightest evidence of any independent manliness on the part of 
the negroes towards the whites. .. Their manner to white 
people is invariably either sullen, jocose or fawning.” 


T. L. OLMstep. 
Dec. 3, 1854. 


iit F- 


NORTH CAROLINA. 


My next communication is dated from Charleston, 
April 4. I transcribe as much of it as relates to the 
North Carolina slaves. 

I left Richmond on Friday morning, and arrived 
at Wilmington about nine in the evening. On Sa- 
turday forenoon I took a stroll into the pine-tree 
forests by which the city is surrounded. After walk- 
afew miles | came upon a rice plantation. About 
half a dozen old wooden shanties, a neat frame house, 
recently erected, and a large barn in the yard, formed 
what in the free States would be termed the home- 
stead, but probably has another name here, as the 
buildings were all intended to hold the owner’s pro- 
perty—to wit: rice and negroes. 


SOVEREIGNTY OF THE INDIVIDUAL. 


I was extremely thirsty, and extremely curious to 
know something about the place, too; and so, to sa- 
tisfy both cravings, I climbed over the fence—a rather 
disagreeable task as well as dangerous, in the present 
style of gents’ nether garments—and then knocked 
atthe door of the new wooden cabin. It was of no 


use knocking at the door. Dar was no one in. 
26 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 27 


“¢ Massa, you needn’t knock dar: open it.” 

I turned round and saw—let me see (I am a judge 
of the price of colored Christians now)—say ‘a leven 
hundred dollar nigger’—standing between me and 
the fence, with his hat in his hand, and a very 
obsequious face on his shoulders. 

“ Look’e here, old boy,” I said, suiting my lan- 
guage to my company—the way to get into favor 
with it—“ what d’ye take me for: a woman ?” 

Oh-eh-eh! Oh! No, no, no, no, massa!. Oh! 
no!” said the chattel timorously. 

“ You don’t, eh? Then put your hat on as quick as 
nhmice. Never lift your hat to any one but a lady, 
and never do that if your wool isn’t all fixed slick.” 

The slave at once dismissed his dismal expression 
of countenance, and grinned rather than laughed 
aloud : 

An! massa! he! he! he! you isn’t a slave; you 
kin do as you like; but ah can’t do dat,” said 
Sambo. , 

“ Are you a married man ?” 

“Oh, yes! massa; ah was married, but ah didn’t 
like my old woman, and ah lives wid anoder now.” 

“Ts your wife living?” 

“Yes, oh, yes, massa.” 

“You believe in the sovereignty of the individual 
—eh? old boy?” 

“Dusseno, massa, what dat am,” rejoined the 
black. 

(Stephen Pearl Andrews! do you hear that? Here 
is a colored personator of your doctrine of individual 
sovereignty, who “dusseno what dat mean, massa” 
Stephen. Enlighten him, pray !) 


ad 


28 THE ROVING EDITOR 


CONTENT OR NOT ? 

“‘ Have you ever been at the North?” I asked. 

The eye that had looked frivolous but a moment be- 
fore, now suddenly flashed with earnestness—it paid, 
I thought, a very eloquent eulogium on the institu- 
tions of the North. 

*¢ No, massa, no!” he responded in a sad tone of 
voice, “neber, and I neber ’specks to be dar.” 

“You would like to go there?” I remarked. 

It is very easy to ascertain the opinions of simple 
people, from the peculiar expression of their eyes: I 
saw at once that my colored companion was strug- 
gling with the suspicion that he might be speaking 
to a spy. : 

“You come from de North?’ he asked cautiously. 

“Tam a Northern abolitionist : do you know what 
that means ?” a 

“‘ Oh, yes, massa,” said Sambo, “ you’s for the slave. 
Do you tink, massa, dat we’ll all get out of bondage 
yet ? 9) 

“JT hope you will, my boy—very soon.” 

‘Dunno, massa; I’s feared not. ITs allus heerd 
dem talking ’bout freedom comin’, but it amn’t comed 
yet.” 

“ You wish you were free ?” 

“ Oh, yes, massa—vwe all does.” 

“Do all the colored people you know wish to be 
free ?” 

“ Yes, massa, they all does indeed.” 

I spoke with him a little longer; looked into the 
barn where about a dozen persons, of both sexes, 
were thrashing rice with cudgels, and then I ad 
dressed another man of color. 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 29 


“This man,” [ soliloquized, as I cast my eyes upon 
the mulatto, “if he were an educated gentleman, 
would be a secret skeptic in religion but an orthodox 
professor ; he would naturally prefer the practice of 
the law as a profession; but if he took to politics he 
would be as non-committal as our democratic aspir- 
ants to the presidential chair, or even, perhaps, as the 
editor of a northern national religious paper on the 
crime of slavery, and its numerous brood of lesser sins. 

“ How do you do?” I began. 

He instantly took off his hat. All colored per- 
sons ‘away down South,” excepting in large cities, 
do so when addressed by a white man. 

He was very well! 

I was very glad to hear it—and how did his folks 
do ? 

I forget how he answered—youw’re not particular 
Lhope? I talked irrelevantly for a time, for I knew 
it would be useless to throw away my frankness on 
him. So I put him through a course of Socratic 
questions. 

He admitted dat freedom am a great blessin’; dat 
de collud pop’lation in general—in fact, nine-tenths 
of those whom he knew—would like berry much to 
be free; but as for himself Ae allus had had good 
masters; Ae didn’t see how he could better himself by 
being free. No—no—no—he didn’t car about free- 
dom, he didn’t. He admitted, however, with Iudi- 
crously hasty expression of it, his willingness to 
accept freedom for himself if he were offered the 
boon. 

“ My friend,” I said, “ will you tell me why you 
would take it if freedom would not ‘better you’ as 
you call it ?” 


30 THE ROVING EDITOR 


He was puzzled. Burton’s acting never afforded 
me one-half so much amusement as I derived from 
watching the bewildered and cunning expression of 
this non-committal negro’s eyes. 

‘Why, massa,” he stuttered, “ I meaned that—a. 
If—I had to take my freedom—eh—if Tse *bleeged 
to, why, Pd—Pd—have to take it !” 

I offered him my hat in token of my admiration 
of this truly resplendent feat of logic. 

“Your answer is perfectly satisfactory,” said I; 
“T only beg pardon tor having caused you to act 
against your principles by telling the truth.” 

I left him amazed at my answer. As I shook 
hands with the other negro on departing, he said : 

“l’s a slave, massa; that’s what I is, and I neber 
’specks to be free.” 

“Keep up your heart, my boy,” I answered, “I 
hope I shall see you in the North yet.” 

“ Weared not, massa,” he returned, “feared not. I 
only hope to be free when I gets to Heaben.” 


THE MULATTO. 

In returning to my hotel I met a mulatto—an in- 
telligent looking man with a piercing dark eye. I 
saw that he had not a single spark of servility in his 
spirit; that if his skin made the middle passage, his 
soul came over in the Mayflower. 

‘What are these birds?” 

I pointed to a couple overhead. 

“ Buzzards,” said the black man. 

A few more trivial remarks and I asked: 

“¢ Are you a free man ?” 

‘¢No, sir, I am a slave.” 

‘Who owns you ?” 


LN NORTH CAROLINA. Sr 


: —; but he hires me out.” 

“‘ Have you ever been North?” 

‘No, sir, I never was.” 

“ You would like to go there and be free, I sup- 
pose ¢” 

He gave me a penetrating look before replying. 
Iseem to have stood the test; for he prefaced his 
reply by a remark which three others have made, 
after closely inspecting my physiognomy : 

“T know yow’re honest, sir. Ill say to you what 
I wouldn’t say to plenty who’d ask me, as you’ve 
done. Yes, sir; I would lke to go North. What 
man of color would not ?” 

‘lve often been told,” I remarked, “by the slave- 
holders’ friends in the North, that you colored people 
are perfectly satisfied, and rather prefer slavery, in- 
deed. Is that so? I always thought the colored 
people loved slavery”—a pantomimic gesture con- 
cluded the sentence. 

“Yes, massa,” said the slave, “I knows what you 
mean. ‘They does love it. Over the left.” 

“Are the majority of colored people of your ac- 
quaintance satisfied or dissatisfied with slavery ?” 

“TI know hundreds and hundreds,” he replied, 
“and almost all of them are as dissatisfied as they 
kin be.” 

* Are one-third satisfied, do you think ?” 

“No, sir. ot more than one-tenth. As few as 
has good masters doesn’t think about freedom so 
much; but if they could get the offer, ald of them 
would be free.” 

« Are you a married man?” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the slave. 

“Were you married by a clergyman?” 





32 THE ROVING EDITOR 


SS sVespir.”’ 

“ Have you any children ?” 

“Yes, sir. I’ve had thirteen.” 

“ Jy-e-eh ?” I ejaculated ; “you don’t mean that?” 

“Yes, massa; I’s had thirteen, but they all died, 
’cept four; it’s an unhealthy place this.” 

I confess that I was rather astonished at finding so 
resolute a family man in bondage; for I thought 
that the energy he had thus exhibited in the “ heavy 
father line” of endeavor, might also have effected his 
escape, or at least his self purchase. 

“Did you ever read ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin?” 

“‘ No, massa; what is it?” 

Explanations followed—but you’ve read it of 
course? It’s truly a fiction without fiction. 

On leaving, he shook hands, and said, with emotion: 

“God bless you, massa! God bless you! I hope 
de abolitionists will win de battle, and bring us all 
out of bondage.” 

Imay state here that the word bondage is very fre- 
quently used by the colored people to express their 
condition. More frequently, I think, than slavery. 

I walked on, and at length came near an unpainted 
cap pe house, occupied exclusively by colored peo- 

e. 

: A COLORED PREACHER’S FAMILY. 

The family consisted of eight persons—the mother, 
four sons and three daughters. One son is twenty- 
one years old; the eldest daughter is nineteen, the 
other two female children are under ten years of 
age. 

They are the children of a colored Methodist 
‘“‘ Bethel” preacher, in New York or Brooklyn, of 
the name of Jacob Mitchell. He has, it appears, 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 33 


been struggling a long time to get money enough to 
buy his wife, eldest daughter, and three youngest 
children. Come! my Methodist friends of New 
York, I want you to redeem this lot—to convert 
them from chattels into human beings. Here they 
are, for sale for cash—five immortal beings, all 
church members, and good moral people, too! As- 
sist Mr. Mitchell without loss of time! He has 
already saved about two thousand dollars; another, 
thousand, they say, would buy the “whole cargo, 
and their blessing into the bargain.” Let the three 
sons escape for themselves; they are not fit to be 
free if they make no effort to escape from slavery. 

Mr. Mitchell is a freeman by gift. This family 
are from Maryland. Some time ago, knowing that 
they were all to be sold to the South, they made 
their escape into the semi-free State of Pennsylvania, 
but were captured, and brought back, and sold to 
North Carolina. What a celestial gratification must 
it be to Mr. Millard Fillmore, and the friends 
of the Fugitive Slave Law, to know of such triumphs 
of the true spirit of nationality—such pleasing proofs 
of inter-national, or rather of inter-state courtesy! 
Great Heavens! it must be overpowering, over- 
whelming, overshadowing! Ah! little do our sec- 
tional and fanatical souls know of the bliss that 
awaits the Conqueror of his Prejudices in favor of 
humanity and freedom! Very little, alas! 

Mr. Mitchell’s family can read. 


A CHRONIC CASE OF RUNAWAYISM. 


A man of twenty-three, or thereabouts, was labor- 
ing, might and main, as I entered the room, at mas- 
tering the mysteries of the first lesson-book. 

o* 


34 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Hullo!” I exclaimed, “do they allow colored 
people to learn to read in this city ?” 

“No, massa!” said the sable student, “dey don’t 
lows it: but they can’t help themselves. I'll do as 
I please !” 

“Oh! yowre a freeman ?” 

“No, massa, I’s a slave; but I won’t stand any 
bad treatment. Is run away six times already, and 
Id run away agin, if they tried to drive me,” he 
exclaimed with emphasis. 

“Six times!” I repeated. ‘Why, you must have 
been very unfortunate to have been recaptured so 
often. How far north did you ever get ?” 

‘Oh, massa, I never tried to get North. I never 
ran more than thirty miles, and then I worked, and 
staid dare.” 

“What did your master do to you when he caught 
you 2?” 

“J ketched it,” said the fugitive, “dey lashed me; 
but I doesn’t care—Z won't be dru.” 

He looked as if he meant what he said, too. I ad- 
vised him, as I have advised at least a dozen darkeys 
already, to run away to the North at the very earliest 
opportunity. 

A BOY’S OPINION. 

I had five other conversations with slaves in Wil- 
mington. I will briefly state the result of each inter- 
view. 

“‘ How old are you, Bob?” 

“Thirteen, sir.” 

“ Are you free ?” 

“No; [ma slave.” 

“Would you like to go North ?” 

“ Yes, sir. I would like to—very much.” 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 35 


“What! don’t you like to be a slave?” 

“No, sir; I don’t,” he said with savage emphasis, 
“T HATE it.” 

“Do all the boys you know hate to be slaves ?” 

“No, sir; but all the smart boys do. There’s only 
a few, and them’s stupid devils, who don’t care 
about it.” 

“Then, yowre one of the smart boys?” I said, 
smiling, as I placed my hand on his head. 

But the boy was in no mood for smiles. His face 
exhibited signs of the most poignant grief, as he 
replied : 

“Well, sir, I wish I was a free boy—and away 
from this darned mean country.” 

The boy was a mulatto. 


A SIGN OF THE TIMES. 
Parson Brownlow, in his recent challenge to the 
North, reserved the right to refuse to accept any 
offer to discuss the Slavery Question with a person 
of color. This fact may yet be cited as a sad and 
sionificant indication of our inveterate blindness to 
danger. For, is it not quite probable or possible, 
that the colored race alone may yet decide this 
question, both for themselves and us, and reciprocate 
the parson’s compliment, by refusing to permit the 
uncolored man to have anything to say about it? 
When we find that “all the smart boys” of the 
subjugated race hate slavery with a deadly ani- 
mosity, it surely is not unreasonable to believe in 
such a terrible, but desirable result. Terrible to the 
tyrant, but desirable for the sake of our national 
honor, 


36 THE ROVING EDITOR 


ADVANTAGES OF A NATIONAL CREED. 


Freedom of speech (this passage I wrote at a later 
period), the freeman’s great right of public utterance 
of thought, even in conversation—for exceptions, 
however numerous, do not. disprove the fact—is 
a luxury of which the Northerner has the exclusive 
monopoly, and that only in his own Free States, if he 
cherishes a radical anti-slavery creed, or any Christian 
sympathy for the negro bondman. How insuffer- 
able, therefore, the insolence, or the intended inso- 
lence, which taunts the Republican party with being 
sectional—with having no nationality—with not dar- 
ing to maintain any political organization in the 
Southern States! The ebon oligarchy, having efiec- 
tually crushed out the essential elements of Re- 
publican freedom, exult over the damnable disgrace 
—throw their harlot taunts at the decencies and vir- 
tues which, having outraged, they affect to despise 
and try to make odious by glorying in their own 
deep shame. 

I regret that the great Republican party is not 
more worthy of these laudatory taunts. I deeply 
lament that it should tolerate in its ranks any but 
the deadliest, the most earnest enemies—not of the 
mistake merely, but the cowardly crime of American 
Slavery. 

I regret to see the anxiety its prominent politicians 
so often and so unnecessarily display, to quiet the 
apprehensions of the traffickers in humanity, by an- 
nouncing their fixed determination never, under any 
circumstances, to interfere with the infernal institu- 
tions where it already exists. Ah! gentlemen! if 
such be your creed, God send us another Democratic 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 37 


President! The best friend of the slave, I have 
often thought, is his worst enemy. Legree hastens 
hw day of emancipation more tary than St. 
c€ / Claif. Atchison has done more for the slave by 
/ his “hana than Garrison by his humanity. I hope 
to see the day when the Republican party will glory 
in its hostility to slavery everywhere and always. 
Until then, its mission must be fulfilled by individual 
effort and underground transit companies. 
Yet that there are advantages in a national creed 
I saw, and thus stated, after reading a speech by 
Senator Douglas, in which he used in substance the 
expressions here attributed to him: 


DOUGLAS. 


The Dropsied Dwarf of Illinois, 
By brother sneaks called ‘“ Little Giant,” 
He who has made so great a noise 
By being to the Slave Power pliant, 
Upon the Senate floor one day 
“ Rebuking ” Freedom’s friends, did say : 
** Republicans must stay at home, 
Or hide their creed, so none can find’em, 
The Democrat alone can roam, 
Nor leave his sentiments behind him!” 
“ Pray why ?” asks Freedom, in surprise, 
““ Because” (the Dropsied Dwarf replies), 
“ Your ‘ glittering generalities’ 
Are odious in St. Legree’s eyes, 
While we such ‘self-apparent lies’ 
Reject, and in his favor rise.” 
Ah! then,” said Freedom, ‘in my rambles, 
Tll keep away from negro-shambles, 
Yet you (I see), your creed suits well, 
Twill serve you here—and when in Hell.” 





Stavery iv Nortn Oarorrma.— The aspect of North Caro- 
lina with regard to slavery is, in some respects, less lamentable 


38 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


than that of Virginia. There is not only less bigotry upon the 
subject, and more freedom of conversation, but I saw here, in 
the Institution, more of patriarchal character than in any other 
State. [Very patriarchal, in the old slave mother’s case !—J. R.] 
The slave more frequently appears as a family servant—a mem- 
ber of his master’s family, interested with him in his fortune, good 
CF age. Slavery thus loses much of its inhumanity. It 
is still questionable, however, if, as the subject race approaches 
civilization, the dominant race is not proportionably retarded in 
its onward progress. One is often forced to question, too, in 
viewing slavery in this aspect, whether humanity and the ac- 
cumulation of wealth, the prosperity of the master and the hap- 
piness and improvement of the subject, are not in some degree 
incompatible.”—OLMsTED. 





ry. 


Tue next slave with whom I talked was also a 
mulatto—one- Ywhite blood. The mulattoes are 
invariably the most discontented of the colored popu- 
lation. 


SLAVERY OR MATRIMONY—A COLORED CALCULATION. 


“ve five children,” he said, “but my wife is 
a free woman, and they are free, although I ama 
slave.” 

Of course the reader knows that by American 
law the child follows the condition of its mother. 
Mother free, children free; mother slave, slave child- 
ren. Perhaps the speediest method of peaceably 
abolishing slavery would be to change (by reversing) 
this law. Under its beneficent operations the 
chivalry would be transformed into manifold libera- 
tors ! 

* How old are you?” 

“ Tm thirty-seven.” 

“How do the colored people feel about slavery ?” 

“ All the colored people of my acquaintance (and 
I know them all here), would gladly be free if they 
could get their liberty. Say about a third have good 
masters, and they are not so discontented, of course, 


as the rest, but ask them at the ballot, or some other 
39 


LO THE ROVING EDITOR 


way, so that they could express their sentiments 
without fear, and then you would hear such a shout 
for liberty as never was raised before.” 

I will omit my questions. 

“My owner hires me out to hotels. He gets 
twenty dollars a month forme. I clear besides that 
about two hundred dollars for myself. About ten 
years since I took up with this woman.” 

He is speaking of the wife of his bosom! 

“Were you married ?” 

“Oh yes,” he continued, “I was regularly mar- 
ried by a minister. They always do it here. The 
slaves will be married, and their owners make a fine 
wedding of it, but it doesn’t amount to anything, be- 
cause they are liable to be separated for life at any 
moment, and often is. DPve often thought this sub- 
ject over.” 

“ What subject ?” 

“ About marrying,” he said. 

*¢ Most men do.” 

* Well, but I mean different. I see, if I hadn’t 
married, I would have been free now; bekase I 
would have had a thousand dollars by this time to 
have bought myself with. But it took all I could 
make to get along with my family. Well, they’re 
all free, my sons ar’; and I’m giving them as good 
an education as we dare give them; so that, if the 
time does come when I’m going to be sold, they may 
buy me.” 

He sighed, and added : 

—& When P’m an old man.” 

I asked if he did not think of escaping before that 
time ? | ) 

“‘ No,” he said, “I wouldn’t run the risk now of 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 41 


trying to escape. It’s hardly so much an object, sir, 
when a man’s turned the hill. Besides, my family. 
I might be sold away from them, which I won’t 
be, if I don’t try to run away—leastways till ’m 
old.” 

* Are the whites very hard on you here?” 

“Yes, sir, they are very hard on us here. We 
dare not say anything about being discontented.” 

This was the statement of one man, fully confirmed 
in its general particulars by another slave, of whose 
domestic relations I asked nothing and know nothing. 


THE OLD SLAVE MOTHER. 


I entered a cabin on the roadside. A little child, 
a slave, with a future as dark as its own face before 
it (as the poet might have observed, but didn’t), was 
sitting quietly playing on the doorstep. 

Will you have the kindness, madam,” I said, 
“to give me a glass of water ?” 

“Oh yes, massa,” said the old woman I had 
spoken to, as she set herself about getting it. I did 
not want it—I only asked for it as an excuse for 
entering the house.” 

“ Are you a free woman, madam ?” 

“No, massa; I’s not. I’s not likely to be,” said 
the old lady. 

“¢ Were you ever at the North ?” 

*¢ No, massa.” 

“ Would you like to go there?” 

She gave a funnily scrutinizing glance: 

“ We-ll, massa, I ca-n’t say dat, for I neber was 
dar,’ she returned, in a slow and very peculiar tone. 

“ How old are you?” 

(Wasn’t that popping a rather delicate question in 


42 THE ROVING EDITOR 


a rather summary manner, my fair sisters of the 
North %) 

“T's sixty-two,” said the venerable slave. 

(Ladies, lovely, of the North! would you believe 
it? She actually appeared to be of the age she men- 
tioned—no, not even a single day older.) 

She had had eleven children, but— 

“‘’s only three I kin see now, massa,” she added, 
mournfully. 

“Have any of your children been sold?” I inquired. 

“Yes,” she said, sobbing, the tears beginning to 
trinkle down her furrowed cheeks, “three on ’em. 
Two boys were sold down South—I don’t know 
where they is; and my oldest son was sold to Texas 
three years since. There was talk about him coming 
back, but it’s bin talked about too-00-o0”—her sobs 
interrupted her speech for a few seconds—* too-00-00 
long to be true, [’s afeerd.” 

Her maternal affections were strongly moved; I 
knew she would answer any questions now. 

“Tt must have been very hard with you to part with 
your boys; almost as hard as when your other child- 
ren died ?” I said. | 

‘“¢ Almost, massa?” she rejoined, “far wuss. When 
they’re dead, it seems as if we knowed they wus 
gone; but when they’re sold down South—ah !—ah! 
—massa ”’— 

She did not finish the sentence in articulate words, 
but the tears that raced down her wrinkled face, the 
sighs that heaved her bereaved maternal breast, con- 
cluded it more eloquently than her tongue could 
have done. 

“Tt almost broke my heart, massa,” she said, “but _ 
we cannot complain—we’s only slaves.” 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 43 


A curious wish entered my mind as she uttered 
these words. I wished that I had the right of select- 
ing the mode of punishing the Southern pro-slavery 
divines in the world to come. I would give each of 
them, what not one of them has, A CuristIAN HEART, 
capable of compassion for human sorrow and suffer- 
ing; and then I would compel them to look, through- 
out all eternity, on the ghost of the face of this poor 
miserable mother, whose children had been sold by 
their inhuman masters far away from her, and far 
distant from each other. 

“Oh! God!” I ejaculated as I gazed on her grief- 
furrowed face, which was wet with heart-sad tears, 
“this slavery is the most infernal institution that the 
sun looks down upon.” 

I did not address this remark to the old woman; 
I did not, indeed, intend to utter it at all; but I did 
speak it aloud, and she heard it. 

“Yes, massa,” she said, “it am infernal; but we’s 
no choice but to submit.” 

“Would you believe it, my old friend,” I said, 
“that your masters, and their white serfs at the 
North, say you are all happy and contented with 
slavery ?” 

“‘ Well, massa,” she replied, “we has often to say 
so to people that ask us; I would have said it to you, 
if you hadn’t talked about my childer; we’s afeerd 
to complain.” 

“Yes, I suppose so; not half of you are con- 
tented ?” 

“A half on us, massa!” she exclaimed, energeti- 
eally, “no, not one quarter.” 

I talked with the old mother for a few minutes 
Jonger, and then took her by the hand. 


44. THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Good bye, old lady,” I said, “I hope that you 
will die a free woman with all your children around 
you.” 

A deep sigh preceded the slave-mother’s answer. 

‘“‘T hope so, massa, I hope so; but it seems as if 
this life was to be-a hard trial to colored people. 
T’s no hopes of seeing my boys agin this side the 
Land.” 

“Good bye,” I repeated, as I retreated hastily— 
for, to say the truth, I could no longer restrain my 
tears, and I hated to let a woman see me weep— 
“wood bye.” 

“Good bye,” said the slave-mother. ‘God bless 
you, massa, God bless you! Yes, massa, and God 
will bless you, if you is the friend of the slave.” 

I find, in a recent number of the Boston Saturday 
Express, a simple narrative, in rhyme, of another 
North Carolina slave-mother’s reply. I subjoin it 
here? 

THE SLAVE-MOTHER’S REPLY. 


** All my noble boys are sold, 
Bartered for the trader’s gold; 
Where the Rio Grande runs, 

Toils the eldest of my sons; 

In the swamps of Florida, 

Hides my Rob, a runaway ; 
Georgia’s rice-fields show the care 
Of my boys who labor there ; 
Alabama claims the three 

Last who nestled on my knee; 
Children seven, seven masters hold 
By their cursed power of gold; 
Stronger here than mother’s love— 
Stronger here, but weak above; 
Ask me not to bope to be 

Free, or see my children free; 
Rather teach me so to live, 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 45 


That this boon the Lord may give— 
First to clasp them by the hand, 
As they enter in Tue Lanp.” 


THE CHUCKLING NEGRO. 


I was walking along the river side. A colored 
man passed me. He could hardly move along. It 
was evident that no auctioneer could have warranted 
him to be “sound and strong.” 

Two other negroes were walking along. One of 
them pointed to the slow man, and said, grinning as 
he said it: 

“Dat dare fellow am as ill as if he were one of de 
white pop’lation.” 

Now this was very far from a compliment to “ de 
white pop’lation,” as the cause of the fellow’s lame- 
ness was evident enough, and said nothing very flat- 
tering for his moral character. 

I went up to the chuckler. 

“ Now, old fellow, what were you saying?” 

The negro grinned, laughed, and chuckled alter- 
nately for several minutes before answering : 

“Oh, er-r-er-he-he-he-eee!” he laughed, “I was 
saying dat de white pop’lation would be makin’ some 
remarks on dat ’ar nigger.” 

“Oh! oh!” I answered, “old fellow, how can you 
lie so?” 

“Oh no, I isn’t massa,” said the old jolly-look- 
ing slave, as he relapsed into a fit of chuckling, 
interspersed by ejaculations of very broken English. 

“ Are you a slave, old fellow ?” 

* Oh, yes, massa,” said the chuckler. 

“ How old are you?” 

“Sixty, massa,” he replied. ‘“I’s eighteen when 


46 THE ROVING EDITOR 


Jefferson war President, and dat war in 1812; I 
mind *bout de war. De rigiments camped on dat 
hill. I carried de wood for dem.” 

‘“‘Have you been a slave ever since 

“ Yes, massa, and long afore dat.” 

“Would you like to be free ?” 

The chuckling laugh was again put in full blast. 
He seemed to use it for the purpose that young 
ladies reserve their swoons for—to avoid continuing 
disagreeable conversation ; or, that Senator Douglas 
uses footpad language on the stump for—to avoid the 
answering of disagreeable questions. 

“No, massa,”—a long chuckle—‘Td not like to 
be free. In de North, de free colored pop’lation isn’t 
able to get ‘long widout eating one anoder.” 

“Who told you that?” I inquired. 

‘De masters of de ships from dar.” (lle was a 
stevedore.) 

“You would n’t like to be free, eh?” I replied, in 
a jovial tone, as I poked him in the ribs, “what a 
lying scamp you are, old fellow!” 

Hardly had I done so, before I had a realizing ex- 
perience of the profundity of Shakspeare’s philoso- 


phy: 


9?) 


‘One dig i’ th’ ribs, good my lord, 
Makes white and colored men akin.” 
Julius Cesar Hannibal’s edition. 


He threw off his dissimulation, dismissed his grins 
and his chuckles, looked grave, and said, 

“ Well, massa, you’s a funny man—dat am a fact. 
I’s would like to be free; but it’s no use, massa—it’s 
no use. I’s aslave, and [’s been one sixty years, and 
I ’specs to die in bondage.” 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 47 


“Do all the colored people you know want to be 
free ¢” 

“ Oh, yes, massa,” he said firmly, “they all does, 
OB COURSE.” 

I had a long conversation with him: he spoke seri- 
ously, gave direct and explicit answers to all my 
questions, and God-blessed me at parting. 

In North Carolina, then, I have had long and con- 
fidential conversations with at least a score of slaves. 
They all stated, with one exception, that not only 
they, but all their acquaintances, were discontented 
with their present condition. He that hath slaves 
let him think! Negroes have all the fierce passions 
of white men, and there is a limit set by Deity Him- 
self to human endurance of oppression. 


TALKS WITH WHITES. 


“ How do you think the negroes feel on the subject 
of slavery ?’ I asked of a carpenter in Wilmington. 
** Contented ?” 

“ Oh,”—a very long oh—“ yes, they’re all content. 
How could they better themselves? I know what 
the North is. Dye travelled all over York and the 
New England States. All that abolition outery is 
only interest. What does the North care for niggers ? 
Look at them in New York, the poor, scourged, 
driven, kicked, and cuffed wretches.” 

I had a talk also with a German who had lived in 
Wilmington five years. He was an abolitionist. 

“ At Richmond,” I said, “I was told that many of 


_ the poorer citizens—those who did not own slaves— 


were secret abolitionists. Is it so here?’ 
The reply was very decided. 
“Yes, sir. Look there,” he said—it was Sunday— 


48 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“look at that girl walking a long way behind her 
master and mistress, who’re going to church, just ex- 
actly as if she was a dog.” 

“Do you think that the majority of the classes I 
mentioned, in this city, are secret abolitionists ?” 

“ Oh, ves,” he said, with excessive emphasis. 


A SLAVE PEN. 


I visited one very peculiar institution in Wilming- 
ton—a house where negroes, or rather slaves, of both 
sexes are kept for sale. There were dozens of the 
poor wretches squatting or walking about the yard. 

As I entered it, I saw a colored girl go up toa 
young male chattel, put her arms, in the most affec- 
tionate manner, around his neck, stand unsteadily on 
tiptoe, and salute his lips with the long lingering kiss 
of a lover, I mention this incident for the benefit of 
Northern gentlemen, whose sweethearts, to use a 
newspaper phrase, are “respectfully requested to 
please copy ” this admirable fashion. That it is of 
lowly origin is no reason for rejecting it. 

The Articles on sale at this establishment were of 
every shade of color, from the almost white to the 
altogether black. Yet—‘‘ Christ died for all ?” 

There was one man with sharp features, fine blue 
eyes, and a most intelligent-looking face. He was 
what I have heard called a saddle-leather-colored 
negro. He asked me if I would buy him? 

Poor fellow! I hadn’t quite change enough to 
change his condition. 

There was a black girl, with an infant nearly white, 
having blue eyes and straight hair. I learned the 
mother’s history. She had lived in a family at Rich- 
mond, Virginia. She there became acquainted with 


IN NORTIT CAROLINA. 49 


a young American, to whom, in time, she bore a 
daughter. Her master was so enraged, when he dis- 
covered her condition, that he swore he would sell 
her South. The author of her misfortune offered to 
buy her; but the master of the woman, under whose 
quivering heart the young man’s child was beating, 
with demoniacal sternness rejected the proffered re- 
paration: and he sold both the mother and the un- 
born babe to the dreaded Southern Traders. 

Detend the institution that caused this most infer- 
nal outrage, ye “ national” ministers of the Most Just 
God—struggle priestfully, hand in hand, against 
its philanthropic assailants, and, verily, you shall 
have your reward. 

Stir up the fires, Beelzebub ! 


Vy. 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 


I rove Charleston! Ispent a fortnight there—one > 
of the happiest periods of my life. Perhaps it was 
the aspect of the city—its thoroughly English appear- 
ance and construction, its old-time customs, its 
genial climate—for there were roses in full bloom in 
its public gardens when there were snow storms at the 
North ; perhaps it was the English architecture, the 
merry peal of bells, the watchman chaunting the time 
of night, the uniformed patrol—which I soon learned 
to hate—all of them reminding me of my boyhood 
days, that cast a spell around my spirit during my 
sojourn there, and which now casts a spell over my 
recollections of the city of Calhoun ; but, be this as it 
may, in spite of my stern and inflexible anti-slavery 
zeal, I would rather to-day be a sojourner in Charles- 
ton than a resident of any other city on the Conti- 
nent. 

Did I say aspell? Not of idleness, however. I 
attended to my business. 

Here is an extract from a letter that I wrote at 
the time: 


“The city jail is an old brick building, of the 
Seotch Presbyterian style of architecture. 


“Close beside it is another massive building, 
50 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 51 


resembling a feudal castle in its external form— 
the infamous Bastile or the Spanish Inquisition in its 
internal management—an edifice which is destined 
to be levelled to the earth amid the savage yells cf 
insurgent negroes and the shrieks of widowed ladies, 
whose husbands shall have been justly massacred by 
wholesale ; or else amid the cheers of the true chivalry 
of the age, the assailants of slavery and the friends 
of the bondmen, and the applause of the fair daugh- 
ters of the Southern States. God grant that the 
beautiful women of the South may be the first to 
demand the demolition of this execrable edifice ; 
God grant that they may be spared the misery of 
seeing their husbands and their children slaughtered 
by their slaves; but God grant, over and above all, 
that the Sugar House of Charleston, by some means, 
or at any cost, may speedily be levelled to the earth 
that it pollutes by its practices and presence. 

“The first of man’s natural rights is the right to 
live: without liberty there is no life, but existence 
only. If any man unjustly deprived me of my 
liberty, and I had it in my power to kill hin, it 
would, I conceive, be a very grave crime to permit 
him to live and enslave me. 


BULLY BROOKS AND COLORED CONTENTMENT. 


« And such,” I wrote—“let the howling Mr. Pres- 
ton S. Brooks, and the Northern sycophants of the 
slaveholders, say as they will—swch are the senti- 
ments of the majority of the slaves in the city of 
Charleston.” 

Mr. Brooks was a nobody at that time. But I had 
just read, in the Charleston Mercury, a speech of his, 
wherein he stated, with an audacity which is pecu- 


52 TIE ROVING EDITOR 


liar to the Southern politicians, that the slaves were 
happy and eminently contented with their unfortu- 
nate condition. The Alercury, on the strength of this 
speech, predicted a glorious future for him! The 
eulogist has since fallen in a duel, and the eulogized 
is lying in an assassin’s grave. Jit future for a lar, 
a despot, and a coward! But let us not linger here. 
Let us spit upon his grave and pass on, leaving his 
soul in the custody of the infernal gods! 

At Richmond and at Wilmington, I continued, 
I found the slaves discontented, but despondingly 
resigned to their fate. At Charleston I found them 
morose and savagely brooding: over their wrongs. 
They know and they dread the slaveholder’s power; 
they are afraid to assail it without first effecting a 
combination among themselves, which the ordinances 
of the city, that are sternly enforced, and the fear 
of a traitor among them, prevent. But if the guards 
who now keep nightly watch were to be otherwise 
employed—if the roar of hostile cannon was to be 
heard by the slaves, or a hostile fleet was seen sailing 
up the bay of Charleston—then, as surely as God 
lives, would the sewers of the city be instantly filled 
with the blood of the slave masters. I have had 
long and confidential conversations with great num- 
bers of the slaves here, who trusted me because I 
talked with them, and acted toward them as a 
friend, and I speak advisedly when I say that they 
are already ripe for a rebellion, and that South Caro- 
lina dares not (even if the North was willing to per- 
mit her) to secede from this Union of States. Her 
only hope of safety from wholesale slaughter is rum 
Union. Laugh the secessionists to scorn, ye Union- 
loving sons of the North, for the negroes are pre- 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 53 


pared “to cement the Federal compact ” once more 
—and really it needs it—with “the blood of des- 
pots,” and their own then free blood, too, if the “ re- 
sistance-to-tyrants” doctrine in practice shall call for 
the solemn and voluntary sacrifice. 

The Sugar House of Charleston is a building 
erected for the purpose of punishing and selling 
slaves in. I visited it. It is simply a prison with a 
treadmill, a work yard, putrid privies, whipping 
posts and @ brine barrel attached. There are, I 
think, three corridors. Many of the cells are per- 
fectly dark. ‘They are all very small. 

What, think you, is the mode of conducting this 
ll institution ? 

If a planter arrives in the city with a lot of slaves 
for sale, he repairs to the Sugar House and places 
them in custody, and there as are kept until dis- 
posed of, as usnal— by auction for cash to the high- 
est bidder.” 

If any slaveholder, from any or from no cause, 
desires to punish his human property, but is too 
sensitive, or what is far more probable, too lazy to 
inflict the chastisement himself—he takes 2¢ (the man, 
woman or child), to the Sugar House, and simply 
orders how he desires it to be punished; and, with- 
out any trial—without any questions asked or ex- 
planations given, the command is implicitly obeyed 
by the oflicers of the institution. A small sum is 
paid for the board of the incarcerated. 

If any colored person is found out of doors after 
ten o'clock at night, without a ticket of leave from 
its owner, the unfortunate wanderer is taken to the 
Sugar House and kept there till morning ; when, if 
the master pays one dollar fine, the slave is liberated; 





54 THE ROVING EDITOR 


but, if he refuses to do so, the prisoner is tied hand 
and foot and lashed before he or she is set at liberty. 
For women are whipped as frequently as men. 

And yet the city which supports these official 
Haynaus, regards itself as one of the burning lights of 
our modern civilization! Miserable race of woman- 
whippers—worthy constituents of the assassin Brooks 
—fit men to celebrate his memory and to revile, with 
worse than fiendish glee, the sufferings of his pure- 
hearted victim, Charles Sumner ! * 


STORY OF A SLAVE. 


The concluding portion of the narrative that I sub- 
join, related to me by a slave, whose answers I took 
down in short hand as he uttered them, will serve to 
show how the name of the Sugar House has become 
a word of terror to the colored race in South Caro- 
lina and the adjoining slave States. I first heard 
of it and its horrors at Richmond, from the colored 
storekeeper of whom I have spoken at considerable 
length. Of course I alter the real names of the 
different parties mentioned in the statement. I 
omit, also, many of my questions : 

“My name is Pete Barclay. I was born in New- 
berg, South Carolina. I’m ‘bout tirty years old 
now.” 

“Why, don’t you know your exact age?” 

“‘No, sah,” said the slave. ‘Let me see. T’ll tell 


* I never spoke to any poor whites of this State, in order to learn 
their feelings towards slavery and slaveholders. Yet it may be inter- 
esting to the friends of the greatest of Massachusetts’ Senators to 
know, as an indication of sentiment, that there is a native-born child 
of South Carolina parents, who reside in the capital, named after 
our torch-tongued orator, Charles Sumner. 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 55 


you ’xactly how old I’m now. I’ve bin two years 
here—not quite two years till nex’ month-—and I 
know Nicholas Smith—I seen him only de oder 
day; he says I’m ’xactly de same age as he is. 
I’m ’xactly thirty-two years old. Dat’s his age.” 

“Ts he free ?” 

“Yes, sah, he’s a freeman. le was ravsed where 
I growed.” * 

“Ts he a white man ?” 

“Oh, yes, sah, he’s a white man, he’s not a colored 
man at all. He knows everytin’—more dan I do 
—he kin read and write, and all dat sort o’ thing, 
you know. I7’d a sister and mother in Carolina, 
*bout 180 miles on the cars, as [’m told. I was 
raised by Mr. Kenog. He’s bin dead for years ; 
I wish I was wid him now. Dat was de first man 
dat ravsed me.” 

“Did you ever know your father and mother ?” © 

“Oh, yes; I knowed dem like a book. Mother 
died four years afore I came to Columbus—I’ve bin 
here two years—four and two is six—isn’t it, sah?” 

I assumed the responsibility of answering in the 
affirmative. 

* Well, she has been dead about dat time. It 
may not be quite so long, though.” 

*‘Who’s Kenog, sir?” 

“ He was a farmer in Newberg,” said the slave. 

“ Did your father belong to him?” 

“ No, sah.” 

“Was your father a slave ?” 

“ Yes, sah, and my moder too.” 


* Long after this sentence was spoken, I found a world of sad his. 
tories in this accidental utterance. Raised—and growed! 


56 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Was your mother ever sold ?”’ 

“No, sah, my mother neber was sold; she was 
raised dere and died dere.” 

“ How many children had she ?” 

“T can’t say ’xactly,” replied the slave, “let me 
count jist how many she had.” 

He commenced with his thumb to count the num- 
ber of his brothers and sisters on his fingers. 

“‘ Maria,” he said, “ dat’s my sister dat I got a let- 
ter from home, the other day ; Alice—she’s dead— 
dat’s two; Lea—I never seen her—she’s dead— 
dat’s three; I’ve had three sisters. Wash, dat’s 
one; Hannibal, dat’s two; Major and Jackson, 
dat’s—let me, me—aint it four, sah ?” 

Yes:” 

“Den, Pve dree sisters and four broders—dat’s 
—dat’s a” 

He could not finish the sentence. The intricate 
problem was beyond his arithmetical ken. 

“Yes,” he continued, in reply to my questions, 
“sometimes slaves has got two names, and some- 
times only one. My fader belonged to a widow 
woman, named Lucy Roberts. I knowed him as 
well as I know dat candle.” 

This conversation occurred in a house oceupied 
partly by colored people, during candle light. 

“Dat’s how I came to be called Roberts,” he 
said, “he took her name. After I left Roberts I be- 
longed to Richardson. I was about six years old 
when I went to Mr. Richardson. I was a present 
from Roberts to him; dat’s how I came to belong to 
him. I stayed wid him till *bout two years since— 
not quite two years; it’s not two years till May. 
Den I was sold to dis ole man, my boss now.” 








IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 57 


It is unnecessary to say “ dat dis ole man, my boss 
now,” was not present at this nocturnal meeting of 
Southern colored and Northern un-colored woolly- 
heads. 

“What sort of a boss is he?” I inquired. 

The answer was brief enough, and as bitter as 
brief : 

“‘ He’s de meanest ole scamp goin’.” 

“¢ Are the colored people of your acquaintance all 
discontented with their present condition ?”’ 

“Yes, sah,” he replied, “all on ’em; I knows lots 
and lots on ’em since I came here, and I’s a stranger 
in the city: ’s not bin here quite two years yet— 
not two years fill nex’ month, sah—and all dat I 
does know wants to be free very bad, I tell ye, and 
may be will fight before long if they don’t get freedom 
somehow. Dis country is de meanest country in 
de world.’ 

* Did you ever live outside of South Carolina?” 

‘No, sah,” he said, nothing abashed by his recent 
decision, “I never has bin out on it, but I knows 
dat nothin’ could be worse. Is been knocked 
about five or six years now very bad; but I 
won’t stand it much longer; [ll run away the 
very firs’ chance I gets. Massa, is a colored man 
safe in the State of New York?” 

I replied that I believed that it now would be im- 
possible, without a desperate and bloody contest be- 
tween the municipal authorities and the people of 
New York, for a Southron to rethrust a slave as a 
brand ¢znto the burning, after he had once trod the 
soil of Manhattan Island. I thought that perhaps 
he could have done so as late as a year ago, but that 


he coyld not do it since the recent anti-slavery re 
3% 


58 THE ROVING EDITOR 


vival. (Abolitionism, at that time, had penetrated 
the theatres, and even the pulpits were belching 
forth anathemas against it.) 

He spoke of one John Bouldon, an intimate friend 
of his, who had been legally kidnapped from New 
York city after successfully effecting his escape from 
slavery. 

“Dey brought him back,” he said, “ but he looked 
brave and game. Oh, he looked well, sah,” he added, 
with enthusiastic energy. ‘Dey wouldn’t let us 
talk to him; we only see him through de grating 
of de jail. Dey took him away one morning—he 
came wid de sheriff of New York—and I heerd tell 
of somebody havin’ raised $1,500 or $15,000 to buy 
him—yes, I believe it was $1,500—but it wasn’t a 
high price, sah; he was a first-rate tailor.” 

“Do you know anything,” I asked, “about the 
Sugar House here? A colored man at Richmond 
advised me to go and see it. Ive been there, but 
the officer who showed me round seemed to think 
that my absence would be as much for the good of 
the house as my company. He showed me all the 
cells, because he could n’t well help himself; but he 
did n’t give me any information.” 

(On entering the yard of this Inferno—the day was 
excessively sultry—I was almost suffocated by the 
first inhalation of its atmosphere. The odor arising 
from the privies, which were in close proximity to 
the treadmill, rendered the atmosphere insufferably 
corrupt. There were eight persons on the treadmill 
at the time inhaling the poisonous air.) 

“You could n’t have axed a better person, sah,” 
said the slave, “dan me. I’s bin twice dere 
De first time dat I was dere I was put in by my 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 59 


master for playin’ at cards. He came up one night 
and caught us—a few boys and myself—playin’ in a 
room.” 

“<¢T don’t want my boys to do that,’ he said, and 
den he went down stairs. 

“Three days passed, and I thought it war all over. 
But it warn’t. On de fourth day, he came into my 
bedroom afore I got up and put a pair of handcufts 
on me and tuk me to de Sugar House. I was kept 
dare in a dark cell—de only light I had came through 
five gimlet holes—for four days, and I was paddled 
twice.” 

« Paddled !” I repeated, ‘ what do you mean ?” 

“Oh,” he said, ‘dey whip us with a paddle.” 

“What’s that?” I asked. 3 

“A paddle,” he rejoined, “is a piece of board 
*bout three fingers wide and half an inch deep wid 
holes init. I got twenty de firs’ day and twenty de 
last. Dey put in a kind of drawer wid hominy in it, 
nothing else, once a day, and dat was our vittals. 
I couldn’t taste any de firs’ day at all.” 

“ What was your second offence ?”’ I asked. 

Nothin’, massa, nothin’ at all. I got leave to go 
to the races, and I met some friends dare, and when 
I came back I was half an hour too late. He put me 
to the Sugar House agin. Iwas kept dar two days 
and got twenty-five lashes.” 

“ Tow many at each time?” 

“Fifteen bof times, massa.” 

“Two fifteens make thirty, not twenty-five,” I ven- 
tured to suggest. 

“ Does it, massa ?””—he pondered for a few seconds 
with a gravity becoming the importance of the sub- 
ject—“ so it does. Well, I got thirty. Den, after 


60 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


dey paddle dem, you know, dey wash their backs with 
salt water.” 

I astonished my colored friend by starting from the 
chair in which I had been lounging. 

“Great God!” I exclaimed, “you don’t mean to 
say that in earnest ?” 

“ Massa,” he repeated, ‘it am as true as I’m sitting 
here.” 

Will you swear that?” I asked. 

“¢ Massa,” he repeated slowly and solemnly, “it am 
God’s truth ; Pll swear it wherever you like; dere’s 
hundreds beside me who would do it if you axed 
them. De colored people here know it too well, 
sah.” 


' 


Postscript.—Hon. Humphrey Marshall, of Kentucky, in his 
defence of Matt Ward, thus describes another efficient means of 
saving grace invented for the maintenance of the blessed “ Mis- 
sionary Institution :” 

‘The strap, gentlemen, you are probably aware, is an instru- 
ment of refined modern torture, ordinarily used in whipping 
slaves. By the old system, the cow-hide—a severe punishment 
—cut and lacerated them so badly as to almost spoil their sale 
when brought to the lower markets. But this strap, I am told, 
is a vast improvement in the art of whipping negroes; and, it 
is said, that one of them may be punished by it within one inch 
of his life, and yet he will come out with no visible injury, and 
his skin will be as smooth and polished as a peeled onion!” 

The paddle is a large, thin ferule of wood, in which many 
small holes are bored; when a blow is struck, these holes, from 
the rush and partial exhaustion of air in them, act like diminu- 
tive cups, and the continued application of the instrument has 
been described to me to produce precisely such a result as that 
attributed to the strap by Mr. Marshall. 


Vel 


SALT WATER PHILANTHROPY. 


Tue last revelation of the slave was so revolting 
that I hesitated to believe it, until it was confirmed 
by a cloud of colored witnesses, many of whom had 
been subjected in their own persons to the horrible 
and heathenish punishment. It shocked me beyond 
anything that I had ever heard. 

This shows, I found, how Northern people will 
persist in seeing Southern institutions and Southern 
customs from a false and unfriendly point of view! 
Bless you! to wash the lacerated backs of the slaves 
with brine is not by any means an indication of a 
cruel disposition! 

This is how I found it out: 

Iwas talking with a Southron about slavery, and 
told him, in reply to his statement that the negro 
bondmen were the happiest of human beings, that I 
had heard that sometimes after they were whipped 
their backs were immediately washed with salt water. 

“| know it,” he said; ‘“ what of it?” 

J think it is infernal barbarity—that’s all.” 

“Why, no, sir,” he said, “it’s philanthropy to 
do it.” 


I turned round. He was perfectly grave. He was 
61 


62 THE ROVING EDITOR 


not speaking ironically. I was amazed, but said 
nothing. 

“Don’t you know,” he asked, “that in this warm 
' climate, if the master were to leave his slave’s back 
just as it is after being whipped, that mortification 
would ensue and the nigger die?” 

Oh, philanthropy! how lovely art thou even to the 
tyrant when thy ways are the ways of—selfish inter- 
est! I was satisfied. : 


THE ANTI-GINGER GIRL. 


One morning, in walking up Calhoun street, I saw 
a pretty colored girl standing at a garden-gate, and 
of course went over and had a talk with her on 
“things in general and slavery in particular.” She 
was a finely formed, Saxon-faced girl, with a spark- 
ling, roguish-looking eye. Her hair was black and 
glossy, and all her features were Caucasian ; but her 
complexion was yellow, and therefore she was a 
slave. 

‘Did you ever try to escape?” I asked her. 

She answered, but I did not hear her distinctly. 

“Oh, you did,” I said, in reply to her supposed 
remark. “In Virginia, eh? Did you come from 
that State ?” 

“No, sir,” returned the yellow girl, with a merry 
glance and a laugh, “I did not say dat; I said I 
never tried, *kase dey would catch me agin, and 
den L’d get ginger.” 

From the manner in which she uttered the dissyl- 
lable ginger, I inferred that she did not relish that 
article of commerce. 

After a few further remarks, during the course of 
which she hinted that her mistress mgt be induced 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. ’ ee 


to sell her, and that she would have no objection—in 
point of fact, rather the reverse—to become my pro- 
perty, I bade the pretty, lively female slave farewell. 
She, like nearly all her class, was evidently the mis- 
tress of a white man. LEvangelizing institution! 


THE GOOD ’UN AND NICE OLE GAL. 


I was leaning on the outside of the fence of a gar- 
den, a few miles from Charleston, in which an old 
man of color was working. 

“Then you've had—how many masters in all?” I 
asked. 

“Five, massa, al’degeder,” said the slave, touch- 
ing his cap politely, as he had done a dozen times at 
least during the preceding three or four minutes. 

“ Never mind touching your hat,’ I said. ‘ How 
many children have you had?” 

“T’s had eight by my firs’ wife, and five by de 
second, and five by dis ole woman.” 

He pointed to a negress who had just entered the 
garden. Her wool was grey, but she appeared to be 
twenty years, at least, her husband’s junior. I sa- 
luted her. 

“You ever been married more than once?” 

“Oh! yes, massa,” said the silver-grey woolly- 
head. ‘TI’s bin married once before.” 

* Had any children ?” 

“Yes, massa,” she said, “I’s had five by dis ole 
man, and seven by de last un.” 

“You are both Christians?” I asked. 

“Yes, massa,” she said, “we goes to de church; 
we’s not members ob de church, kase we’s colored 
people, and dey won’t let us be.” 


64 ° THE ROVING EDITOR 


This statement does not hold everywhere. It may 
be true, however, of South Carolina. 

“That's not a great misfortune,” I remarked, as I 
recalled to my recollection a long editorial article 
that I had lately read in the Worth Carolina Baptist 
Recorder, entitled, “The Fanaticism of the New 
England Clergy;” which was written by a professed 
minister of the gospel of love, for the purpose of 
proving that Jesus Christ, the friend of oppressed 
humanity, was a Southern Rights man; and that God, 
the Father of our race, ‘ whose name is love,” had 
revealed it to be his will that the negro should be, 
and should be kept as a bondman; and consequently, 
of course—this was the inference—that sugar houses, 
treadmills, whips, paddles, brine-barrels, bloodhounds, 
Millard Fillmores, and “sound national men” should 
exist to keep them in that debased condition. 

“Ts it not massa?” asked the woman, laughing, 
“well, I spose we kin be Christians widout bein’ 
members ob de church.” 

“Tf you have kept all the commandments as well 
as you have kept the first,” I rejoined, in a jocular 
tone, “multiply, and so forth, you know, you must 
be Christians of the A No.1 sect. Eight and five 
are thirteen, thirteen and five are eighteen; you’ve 
had eighteen children, old man, have n’t you?” 

“Yes, massa,” said the old slave, grinning. 

“Seven and five are twelve; that’s the old wo- 
man’s share. You've done very well between you, 
I declare !” 

The colored Replenishers roared with laughter. 





IN SOUTH CAROLINA. * 65 


MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE AMONG SLAVES. 


“How long has your first husband been dead?” 
I asked the woman. 

“He isn’t dead yet, massa,” said the mother of a 
dozen darkies, “he’s livin’ yet. I didn’t like him, 
and I neber did; so I tuk up wid my ole man.” 

*¢ And you like him, do you ?” 

‘Oh, yes, massa,” she said as a prelude to a peal 
of chuckles. “Ts a great deal younger dan he is, 
but I wouldn’t change agin.” 

“Rather flattering to you, old boy,” I said, ad- 
dressing the male article of traffic; “do you return 
the compliment ?” 

“Yes, massa,” he said with a laugh, and a loving 
look at her, “she’s a nice ole gal. Ts knowed her 
since she was dat high”—he levelled his hand to 
within two feet of the ground—“ and I knows,” he 
added, “dat she’s a good un.” 

Chuckles, expressive of gratification, followed from 
the good un, which was succeeded by a history of 
the ole man’s life, but it was uttered in such ela- 
borately broken English, that [ could not understand 
a word of it. 


SURPRISING IGNORANCE OF THE SLAVE. 


“You say you were owned by an Englishman,” I 
repeated, affecting an ignorance of Southern geo- 
graphy, “and that you lived at St. Helena. Was 
St. Helena an island?” 

“ Yes, massa.” 

“The island that Napoleon Bonaparte lived at ?” 

* Napol’on Bonapard!” he repeated. 


66 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Did you never hear of Napoleon Bonaparte?” I 
asked. 

‘¢ No, massa,” he returned, “ who was him ?” 

“Jt is the name of a gentleman, who did a thing 
- or two in Europe,” I returned. ‘“ But do you know 
what Europe is?” 

“No, massa,” said the slave, “JZ never heerd on 
him!” 

I explained that Europe was a State annexable to 
the United States, and, therefore, destined to be one 
of them in the good time coming, boys. 


CONTENTMENT AND MORALITY. 


“Were you married,” I continued, “to your pre- 
sent wife by a minister ¢” 

‘“‘'No, massa, dey neber does de like of dat wid 
colored people.” 

(He was mistaken in this particular; for slaves are 
very often married by the preachers.) 

“Then you live together,” I suggested, “ until 
you quarrel, and then you separate ?” 

“Oh, no, not allus,” said the woman; ‘ we some- 
times quarrels in de daytime, and make all up at 
night.” 

Thus is the system of slavery a practical defiance 
of the Christian doctrine of marriage and divorce. 

“ Are you content with being in bondage ?” 

“No, no, massa, indeed,” said the old man, “ but 
we can’t help ourselves. I neber ’xpects to be free 
dis side DE LAND.” 

I turned to the good un: 

‘“‘The slave-masters,” I said, ‘‘when they go North, 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 67 


say that you are all contented, and do n’t want to ba 
free—is that so ?” 

“Oh, J—s, no!” she exclaimed, with a fervency 
of emphasis, which both amazed and amused me. 


WHAT THE BOYS SAY. 


I had four confidential conversations with colored 
mulatto youths in different parts of the city. All of 
them were very discontented with their condition, 
and said that all the boys they knew were equally 
dissatisfied. 

I asked one boy—a free boy: 

“ Do you think that any boys, who are slaves, are 
content ?” 

‘There may be one or two,” he answered, “ but 
they haven’t*got any sense.” 


THE WILLING EXILE. 


I rode one day several miles with a free man of 
color, and conversed with him all the way. 

At the age of thirteen he was liberated by his 
owner, a Quaker gentleman, who sold his estates, 
and manumitted all his slaves before going to the 
North. He had six children by his first wife, but, 
as she was a slave, they were born into bondage 
also. He said that he had done well in a pecuniary 
way here, but that, before three years were over, he 
and all his children would sail for Liberia. 

“No, sir,” he said in reply to a question, “I 
wouldn’t leave a child of mine in a country where 
they may be sold into slavery, even if they are free, 
if they cannot pay their taxes.” 

“ You don’t mean to say ”—— 


68 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Yes, sir,” he continued, interrupting me, “ they 
does that here.” 

Hold! enough !— 

Thus abruptly terminates the last letter that I 
wrote to my Northern anti-slavery friends during 
my first trip South. 

I have omitted the purely didactic passages, as 
my object is to furnish facts, rather than to advocate 
theories, or to philosophize. Among these portions, 
however, I find two paragraphs which it may be 
well to preserve. 

PRO AND CON. 


At Wilmington, a philanthropic lady, a woman 
evidently of pure character and kindly nature—told 
me, mildly, that the Northern Abolitionists had no 
idea how numerous and how friendly the bonds were 
that united the slave to his master. As she said so I 
felt inclined to reply that perhaps Southern slave- 
holders had no idea how many and how insurrection- 
ary the reasons were that are daily tending to array 
them one against the other. I did not say so, how- 
ever, for the lady was a slaveholder, and I was in 
her house. Such an assertion would have been 
regarded as an insult. It isn’t always etiquette to 
speak the truth! 

And again: 

Thus, therefore, although I say that I wish to see 
slavery abolished at any cost—even at the cost of a 
social Black St. Bartholomew’s night—I do not say 
that all, or even the majority of the slaveholders, are 
depraved or heartless men. Far from it. Among 
them are the kindliest natures, the most hospitable, 
generous and honorable souls. They have been con- — 
ceived in the sin and born in the iniquity, so to 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 69 


speak; on the slavery problem they never think 
with a desire to ascertain the truth; they regard 
the wrong as an established right; they hear it 
praised and defended from their youth up; and look 
on it, from habit, as the true social condition of the 
negro. They would as soon think of inquiring into 
the sentiments of their horses on their position, as to 
interrogate the slaves as to their ideas of bondage. 
There are many good men in the slaveholding ranks, 
who support the iniquity by their influence and their 
character, without suspecting that they are the pillars 
of a gigantic crime. 

Are they, then, excused? No! Ignorance of the 
laws of humanity excuseth no man. They are the 
pillars of a huge Temple of Sin, and should perish 
with it when it falls. 


/ A gentleman who, as I had every reason to be- © 


r/ 
/ 


lieve, is a St. Clay to his slaves, lately said to me 
that his negroes could not be discontented, because 
they had no reason of complaint, as he was as kind 
to them as it is possible for a master to be. 

“ What right have you to be kind, as you call it, 
to your slaves?” 

“Sir!” he ejaculated, in surprise. 

“ You do not see,” I continued, “ that you speak 
of your kindness as of an exclusive possession which 
you had the right to dispense or retain at your plea- 
sure. You forget at the outset that the negro is a 
man—your equal. Leave him alone—let him be free 
—and he will be kind to you, I have no doubt with- 
out making you his slave, and not boast of it either, 
I will warrant. This patronizing kindness is an in- 
sult toa freeman. Would younot be very apt to call 
me out if I went about, and said, in a condescending 


70 THE ROVING EDITOR 


tone, that I had always been very kind to you? 
Kindness is very well in its way—but it is not free- 
dom. Such is the view I should take of it if I were 
a slave.” , 

“T don’t forget—I deny that the negro is my 
equal,” said the Sfethicaaes cooly ; wih thus the con- 
versation dropped. 

I concluded my fourth letter from Charleston in 
these words: : 

“T have spent six days now in conversing with 
colored people here, and I have never yet met one 
who professed to be contented with slavery—far less 
to prefer it. Many, many have I met who are pant- 
ing for liberty, and several slaves who are prepared 
to risk the chance of failure in a servile insurrec- 
tion.” 

Having done my work, I left Charleston. 


SAVANNAH. 


I spent three months at Savannah. My friends 
have often asked me how it was, that, when I dared to 
talk so freely with the slaves, I was never once dis- 
covered or betrayed? I reply, by remembering that 
the wisdom of the serpent is as necessary to a reformer 
as the harmlessness of the dove. I did not think 
it wrong to use stratagem to serve the slave. I 
have the talent of silence, the talent of discreet 
speech—and also—and I use it quite as often as the 
others—the talent and virtue of ¢ndisereetness. The 
friend of the slave needs all three ! 

I found that the slaves of Georgia were without 
hope—passively resigned. It was requisite, in the 
first place, to arouse their hope. To effect that re- 
sult, it was indispensably necessary to let them know 


IN GEORGIA. 71 


of the anti-slavery battle waging throughout the 
Union—of which, unfortunately they were totally 
ignorant and likely to remain uninformed. 

How I went to work to enlighten them, I do not 
deem it prudent to say. It might close that avenue 
of power to the abolitionists. 

Suffice it to say that I seldom spoke to the city 
slaves. [never cared to run the risk of being be- 
trayed, excepting when I was travelling on a jour- 
ney. Hence, when I intended to reside in a city, I 
never spoke confidentially to the slaves untied L was 
- prepared to depart. 

I had only one conversation with a slave in Savan- 
nah, of which I have preserved the record. 

In walking along the beautiful road—one of the 
most charming in the Union—which leads from the 
city to the Catholic cemetery, I met an aged negro 
slave. It was on a Sunday. 

“Good morning, uncle.” 

“Good mornin’, mass’r.” 

Who do you belong to ?” 

He told me. 

“ Hired out ?” 

“ No, mass’r, I works on de boss’s plantation.” 

 What’s your allowance ?” 

“A peck of meal a week, mass’r.” 

“¢ What else ?” 

“ Nothin’ mass’r, at all. We has a little piece 
of ground dat we digs and plants. We raises 
vegetables, and we has a few chickens. We 
sells them (vegetables and eggs), on Sundays and 
buys a piece of bacon wid de money when we kin, 
mass’r.” 

“ That’s pretty hard allowance,” I said. 


(2 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


“ Yes, mass’r, it is dat; but we can’t help dat.” 
* * * % * %* & * 

‘¢ Did you ever know a slave who would rather be 
in bondage than be free ?” 

“J neber ded, mass’r.” 

Savannah is a city of 20,000 souls. 

How many policemen do you suppose it requires 
to keep the peace there ? 

Lighty-one mounted guards. 

There are larger cities in the Northern States with 
but one constable, and he engaged occasionally only 
in performing his official duties ! 

Who pays the expenses of this guard—the salaries 
of the men, and for the purchase money, the feed 
and accoutrements of the horses ? 

Chiefly, the non-slaveholding population. 

Let the Democratic supporters of the ‘ constitu- 
tional” crime of American slavery reflect on this un- 
palatable fact! 

In all slaveholding cities—excepting the great sea- 
ports, and St. Louis, Louisville and Baltimore, which 
are practically free—the lawyers form the richest 
and most influential class. 

Let the people think of this fact; let them remem- 
ber too, that lawyers are the leeches of the body 
politic. 


- 





LE, 


THE COMMERCIAL CONVENTION. 


< 


Everrzopy, North and South, has heard of the 
great Commercial Conventions, which regularly as- 
semble, now here, now there, but always in the 
Slave States, to discuss the interests, and “‘resolve ” on 
the prosperity—immediate, unparalleled, and uncon- 
ditional—of slaveholding trade, territory, education, 
Legree-lash-literature, and “direct commerce with 
Iurope!” These assemblies are generally regarded, 
- in the Slave States, as the safety-valves of the South- 
ern Juggernaut-institution, without which, for want of 
ventilation, that political organization would speedily 
explode, and scatter death and destruction to the ends 
of the earth. All the politicians of the third order, 
and the second class (occasionally, perhaps, of the 
upper circles, also) assiduously attend them, to publicly 
renew the unmanly assurances of their unwavering 
loyalty to the overshadowing disgrace of the Ameri- 
can nation, and the blighting and devastating curse 
of their own unhappy section. These exhibitions 
would be more amusing than a farce, if they were 
not, to thoughtful men, more tragic than a tragedy. 
For what is more sorrowful than to see men of talent 
the willing and enthusiastic eulogists of so very foul 


a crime as the system of American slavery 4 
4 78 


74 THE ROVING EDITOR 


The ridiculous aspect of these assemblies has been 
admirably portrayed, again and again, by the promi- 
nent journalists of the North and South, without re- 
spect of political party. The other aspect has never 
yet been fully noticed, even by the New York Z7- 
bune, whose sarcastic and merciless presentations of 
these Southern absurdities were keenly felt and re- 
sented by their perpetrators—nay, even, honored by 
a five hours’ debate in the Commercial Convention 
which assembled in Charleston in 1854. 

I beg pardon of the chivalry! I had closed up 
the record of this, my first trip, without deeming 
them and their Convention as worthy even of a pass- 
ing notice. It would have been very unfair to have 
treated them so cavalierly. It would not have been 
rendering like for like. They did not serve me in 
that way. Let me render them, therefore, the cour- 
tesy of a chapter. 

This was how it happened, that anti-Zrzbune de- 
bate : 

I determined to remain in Charleston during the 
session of the Convention, to report its proceedings 
for the metropolitan press. Previous to my depar- 
ture from New York city, I had been a member of 
the Zribune’s editorial staff. So I entered the Com- 
mercial Convention, and announced myself as the re- 
porter of that paper. 

I was very courteously treated. I had the dis- 
tinguished honor of a self-introduction to the illustri- 
ous Parson Brownlow, who, seemingly having taken 
a fancy to me, patronized me in his original and ex- 
traordinary way. He went with me to the principal 
dry goods stores, and showed me the glories thereof, 
invariably introducing me to strangers in this way: 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 15 


‘You've heerd of Horace Greeley ?” 

They had, in every case, heard of that celebrated 
editor. They sometimes, even—probably to prove 
the exactness of their knowledge—volunteered to ex- 
press their conception of his character. One or two, 
indeed, to use their own expression, “made no 
bones ” of uttering what they thought of him, with- 
out waiting for a special invitation to that effect. 
These estimates of Mr. Greeley were seldom offensive 
to his friends on the score of excessive or extrava- 
gant eulogy. The answer of one Palmetto counter- 
jumper will abundantly prove this assertion : 

“You've heerd of Horace Greeley?’ asked the 
grinning parson, as the usual prelude to his excellent 
joke. 

“Yes: damned rascal—what about it?’ said the 
young, laconic, counter-jumping judge. 

“ This 1s him /” quoth the parson. 

Of course, on a minute inspection, the startling 
effect thus suddenly produced as suddenly, vanished. 
That spotless linen, hair elaborately dressed, mous- 
tache carefully trimmed and scientifically curled: 
those pantaloons, and coat, and vest, well brushed 
and white not one, but each of the gravest black; of 
the finest and most costly material too; and fitting al- 
beit so exactly to the figure, that they seemed to have 
been plastic moulds, into which, in a melted physical 
condition, I had been cautiously poured : that superb 
Genin hat, those daintiest of French boots, glittering 
diamond ring, and no less brilliant breastpin: Did 
you ever see Horace Greeley, Mr. Zachariah Smith, 
and if you have, do you wonder that I was not 
immediately arrested 4 

The parson, in convention, delivered an irregular 


16 THE ROVING EDITOR 


speech, or out-of-pulpit sermon, whose moral and 
practical application, as he stated it, was this celes- 
tial injunction, “ Vever put your arm inside of a jug 
handle.” ‘The advice was more especially addressed 
to the young lady spectators. By a bold license of 
speech, which men of genius are privileged to employ, 
the jug-handle of this more than celestial moral indi- 
cated the arm of every young man who would not, 
at his clerical command, sign the temperance, or 
rather the total abstinence pledge. 

The parson introduced me to a Southern editor, 
whose style of thought and conversation greatly 
amused me. He was from Chattanooga, Tennessee. 
Full to overflowing, was the Tennessee journalist, of 
loyalty to slavery (which, down South, they often 
euphonize as “the South!”), and loyalty to vene- 
rable rye; and of the most friendly feelings, too, 
toward Parson Brownlow, Virginia short-cut, and the 
Honorable Mr. Jones, his representative in Congress. 
He praised Mr. Jones first and foremost: Jones was 
bound to be President, he said, and had come down 
here (but I mustn’t tell nary one about it) to put 
himself right with the South Carolina fire-eaters, who 
were offended at a Union speech that he had recently 
delivered in New York city! Couldn’t I help him 
out of his fix by giving him a good notice—right 
kind, you know, of pitchin’ into him, eh? That was 
a d——d good fellow? Wouldn’t I take a chaw? 
No? Was it possible [never chawed? Well, sup- 





pose we liquored then? Oh, curse it now—that was 


piling on the agony altogether too loud—neither 
chaw nor drink? That came of being in the Zribune 
office. Damn such isms, he said. 

But when he found that I was a willing and de- 


IN SOUTH CAROLINA. EC 


lighted listener to his stories of Tennessee, he seemed 
to forgive my unfamiliar isms. He told me that he 
had often seen Parson Brownlow, in the pulpit, before 
opening his Bible to read the text of his sermon, first 
take out a couple of loaded pistols and lay one of 
them on each side of the holy volume. This precau- 
tion, he said, he was obliged to take, in order to de- 
fend himself, if suddenly assailed, by rufiians whom 
he often denounced. The anecdotes, admiringly told, 
that he related of the parson, proved him to be, of all 
living Americans—not even Stephen A. Douglas ex- 
cepted—the most indecent and unscrupulous of 
speech.* 

The editor knew Greeley too. Greeley, upon the 
hull, was a clever fellow personally; butad d ras- 
eal, no two ways about it, politically. Worst man in 
the country: he would be d dif he wasn’t. Per- 
haps, I suggested, mightn’t that follow even if he 
was? We didn’t see the point! “He had bin to New 
York. Had called on Greeley, and had been told 
by him that he might examine his exchanges. His 
impressions, therefore, were favorable to Greeley. 

As the Tennessee editor, with eyes half shut from 
the effects of whisky—his feet, higher than his 
head, resting on a table—was garrulously muttering 
his opinions of the New York journalist, I thought 
of a plan by which, if it succeeded, I might some- | 
what enliven the proceedings of the Convention, and 
hear the Southern lions roar. 

* Now,” I said, “since Greeley was so ‘clever,’ it 








* Let it be remembered that Parson Brownlow is still the pastor, in 
good standing, of an orthodox Southern Church, although he en- 
dorsed and eulogized the conduct of a mob, who publicly burned a ne- 
gro slave to death, without form of law. 


78 THE ROVING EDITOR 


is no more than fair that you should try to recipro- 
cate ?” 

“ That’s a fact,” mumbled the editor, “TIl be happy 
to serve you in any way, Mr. R. How kin 1?” 

“Introduce a resolution into the Convention to- 
morrow morning, constituting the gh seb sara of 
the New York press honorary delegates.” 

“Tl do it,” he said: and he ica his word. 

The motion was put—and carried! The truth is, 
that it was not rightly understood. But, before the 
Convention re-assembled next morning, it was evi- 
dent that there had been brains in birth-pang labor, 
in view of the extraordinary vote. The Standard 
and “a planter” remonstrated publicly. This gen- 
tleman, they said, may be both a Chesterfield and a 
Howard (it was not the blooded family they meant— 
only the English philanthropist), but in the Commer- 
cial Convention, they argued, we can recognize him 
merely and solely as the representative of the New 
York Tribune! As such 

It is unnecessary to me to say what treatment I 
merited ‘as such.” 

When the Convention was called to order, a gentle- 
man, in a shrewd and courteous speech, moved that 
the resolution be rescinded without discussion. He 
hoped there would be no debate. It was unprece- 
dented to admit reporters as honorary delegates into 
any convention. The dignity invested them with the 
right of voting and participating in debate. Gentle- 
men had not thought of these facts in voting for 
the resolution which conferred such unusual honors 
on the representatives of the New York press. There 
were other reasons: which he would not name here. 
It was unprecedented. That was enough! 





IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 19 


He sat down. 

Shrill and loud, and in ringing tones came the sen- 
tence through the theatre: 

“ And if it is not enough, Mr. President, 7 have 
other reasons to give!” 

I turned round, and saw, in the Georgia delega- 
tion, a tall, lank, bony, red-headed man, with his thin 
wiry finger stretched out @ Ja Randolph—his body 
more than half bent over the gallery. 

“ Unpre-re-cedented !” he shrilly shouted, quiver- 
ing with indignation, ‘ unpre-re-cedented, why! sir, 
it’s unparalleled, outrageous and insufferable. What, 
sir! have we come here to tolerate in our midst, and 
not only tolerate, no sir, not only that, but honor, sir, 
HONOR, sir, an emissary of that infamous abolition 
sheet, the New York Zribune !” 

I chuckled! The poker was stirring; the lions 
and lesser beasts were beginning to roar! 

For five mortal hours (called mortal, I suppose, 
because they are very short-lived) the politicians 
belched forth their denunciations of the Zribune. 
Never before, probably—never to my knowlege— 
was so splendid a tribute paid to any journal. 

It was impossible to stem the current of their 
fanatical rage. It was in vain that one old man, 
grey-haired and feeble, appealed to them—for God’s 
sake—to vote at once, and not debate; not to furnish 
capital to their enemies—not to advertise the organ 
of abolitionism. 

With a rush, and a roar, and a sweeping force, on 
came the filthy flood of speech again, all the fouler, 
and stronger and wilder, from that attempted check. 
The chance was too good to be lost. Probably many 
of them had never seen an abolitionist before, and 


80 THE ROVING EDITOR 


never again would have such an opportunity of un- 
burdening their minds in such a presence. I was 
astonished at the contempt with which they spoke 
of the press. I did not know then, what I soon learned, 
that the press South is a greater slave than the negro, 
and is treated by the planters and politicians who 
rule it, exactly as it deserves to be—like a serf. 

The motion was rescinded. 

I rose up at once, took my delegate ribbon from 
its button-hole, threw it on the ground, and walked 
out of the reporters’ seat. This act was noticed by 
great numbers, as it was done in front of the au- 
dience, and was an exhibition of independence which, 
I discovered, made me many friends. I thought it 
due to the press to reciprocate the contempt of the 
politicians, and when gentlemen who introduced 
themselves after this episode, were informed of this 
reason of my conduct, many of them endorsed it in 
the usual fashion : 

“ Let's lequor.” 

I went to the upper gallery (it was in the theatre), 
and entered a private box as spectator. I took no 
further notes. There were three young ladies in the 
box. One of them, I noticed (after I had been there 
some time), was playing with the stem of her parasol. 
I looked at it, and saw that it was a dagger, as well 
as a handle; like a sword cane, it was hollow, and 
secretly contained a glittering deadly weapon! I 
had never before either seen, or heard, or read of 
such a fashion: nor since. From before what a 
beneficent condition of society did that dagger-para- 
sol-stem lift up the thick curtain! It was an irre- 
sistible argument, I thought, for the extension of 
slavery, and for “respecting” the “rights”—the 





IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 81 


State rights, not human rights—of our “ Southern 
brethren !” Oh! eloquent parasol-stem! potent 
preacher! graphic painter and historian! your les- 
son is ever present with me, whenever, as a citizen, | 
I am called on to act in public affairs; and long will 
be remembered after the faintest shadow of the elo- 
quent orations of the Commercial Convention are ut- 
terly obliterated from my recollection. 

Faint, indeed, are my present recollections. I re- 
member only endless resolutions denouncing the 
North, and creating a new South; and a discourse 
by a Rev. Mr. Marshall, of Kentucky or Mississippi, 
I think, on the Importance of Planting Potatoes for 
Posterity ; which, in a defence of men of insight and 
foresight, he declared to be the mission of the vision- 
ary as contrasted with the lower and grosser work of 
the practical intellect—that only hoes its row for the 
present generation. It was very funny—for the 
preacher was in earnest. Dean Swift, in jest, could 
not have composed a keener satire on the Southern 
Commercial Conventions. 


4* 


MY SHCOND) ERS 





I 


PRELIMINARY WORDS ON INSURRECTION. 


My, opinion of the slaveholders, and my feelings 
toward them, were greatly modified during my re- 
sidence in Savannah. I saw so much that was 
noble, generous and admirable in their characters ; 
I saw so many demoralizing pro-slavery influences 
—various, attractive, resistless—brought to bear on 
their intellects from their cradle to their tomb, 
that from hating I began to pity them. It is not 
at all surprising that the people of the South are so 
indifferent to the rights of the African race. For, 
as far as the negro is concerned, the press, the pul- 
_pit, the bench, the bar, and the stump, conspire with 
a unity of purpose and pertinacity of zeal, which 
is no less lamentable than extraordinary, to eradi- 
cate every sentiment of justice and brotherhood from 
their hearts. They sincerely believe Wrong to be 
Right, and act on that unhappy conviction. They 
know not what they do. Preachers tell them that 


slavery is a God-planted institution; lawyers, that it 
82 


PRELIMINARY WORDS ON INSURRECTION. 83 


is the apple of the eye of the Federal Constitution ; 
jurists, that it is the key and corner-stone of a rational 
and conservative I’'reedom ; politicians, that it is the 
prolific source of our national greatness and the surest 
guaranty for the continuance of a stable prosperity 
—while the press, by its false and perverted record 
of passing events, represents every enemy of pro- 
slavery domination as a foe to the South—as seeking 
to rob and to subdue the people of the slaveholding 
States—and thus teaches that fidelity to their “ pe- 
culiar,” “ patriarchal,” “domestic” cnequety is the 
sum and substance—the alpha and omega of a man’s 
duty to his country. 

Thus taught—interest prompting also—they have 
gone on, year after year, supporting the extravagant 
demands of their politicians; until now, no longer 
content with their first demand—toleration, or their 
second claim—equality with freedom, they boldly 
insist on absolute and undisputed supremacy in 
every State. 

They are sincere. lar less criminal are they there- 
fore, in my opinion, than such moral outcasts as 
G— S—, who once publicly uttered the revolting 
declaration, that, if-every slave in America could be 
instantly liberated by a single prayer, he—for one— 
would not offer it up! The Southern church has 
been a very ponderous millstone around the neck of 
the slave—the clergy having vied, apparently, with 
each other to see which of the conflicting denomina- 
tions, South, could keep the negro the longest and 
the deepest under water, 

But sincerity is not enough, in the eye of the 
moral law, It is necessary, also, to be RieuT; to 
abstain from violating the law. How then, shall we 


84 THE ROVING EDITOR 


compel the slaveholder to understand that his treat- 
ment of the negro is wrong—to show him that it is 
demanded, by every principle of justice and hu- 
manity, that he shall liberate his slaves? Not by 
propagating the popular theology—for the South has 
churches enough, far too many preachers, and might 
even spare a Tract Society! The more the worse— 
for the slave. Preaching even undefiled Christianity 
would have no universal immediate effect, and even if 
it would have, and could have, there is this objection 
to it—it cannot be carried into operation! The slave- 
holders will not listen to it—it is illegal—dangerous to 
attempt—in one word “impracticable” in the South- 
ern States. Besides, if possible, it would be absurd. 
You might as well preach to buffaloes! Our duty to 
the slave, I think, demands that we shall speedily ap- 
peal to the taskmaster’s fear. Let us teach, urge, 
and encourage insurrections, and the South will soon 
abandon her haughty attitude of aggression. Then it 
will be time enough to advocate schemes of compen- 
sation; then it will be time enough to ascertain 
whether or not the Constitution gives us the power 
to abolish slavery everywhere. Until then, I confess, 
I regard all such labors as unnecessary, or, at best, 
but an awkward mode of fighting a powerful and 
defiant foe. If we want to make good terms with 
the Slave Power, let us bring it on its knees first! 
And there is but one way of doing that: by attack- 
ing it where it is weakest—at home. ‘The slave 
quarter is the Achilles’ heel of the South. Wound 
it there and it dies! One insurrection in Virginia, 
in 1832, did more for the emancipation cause, than 
all the teachings of the Revolutionary Fathers. 
What if, in such rising, a few lives are lost? What 


IN’ VIRGINIA. 85 


are a few hundred lives even, as compared with the 
liberties of four millions of men? I have no ill- 
feeling to slaveholders asa class. Yet I could hear 
of the untimely death of ten thousand of them © 
without a sigh, or an expression, or a feeling of re- 
gret, if it resulted in the freedom of a single State. 

I dismiss the argument that we have no right to 
encourage insurrections, the dreadful punishment of 
which, if unsuccessful, we are unwilling or do not 
propose to share, by replying that I am not unpre- 
pared to hazard the danger of such a catastrophe, 
and the chances of speedy death or enduring victory 
with the revolutionary slaves. To still another objec- 
tion urged against my plan, I answer that, in an in- 
surrection, if all the slaves in the United States—men, 
women and helpless babes—were to fall on the field 
or become the victims of Saxon vengeance, after the 
event, if one man only survived to relate how his 
race heroically fell, and to enjoy the freedom they 
had: won, the liberty of that solitary negro, in my 
opinion, would be cheaply purchased by the uni- 
versal slaughter of his people and their oppressors. 


I START AGAIN. 


Let us travel again! 

After a detention of some months in New York 
city, prostrated on a sick bed, I once more departed 
for the Southern States. 

About the middle of September, 1854, I travelled 
by railroad from Richmond to Petersburg. I made 
no notes of the intervening country at the time, but 
will insert here what I wrote on a subsequent pedes- 
trian journey over the same route. 


86 THE ROVING EDITOR 


CHESTERFIELD COUNTY FACTS. 


Nearly the entire road runs through woods. 
Land, from $6 to $8 an acre. 

This county, a few years ago, had a population 
of 17,483, an increase of thirty-four only during 
the ten preceding years. It had 8,400 whites, 
8,616 slaves, and 467 free persons of color. It had 
neither colleges, academies, nor private schools. 
Five hundred and sixty-seven pupils only attended 
the public schools. Three thousand and ninety-five 
white persons, over five and under twenty years 
of age, and one thousand and eight white adults, 
could neither read, write nor cipher! Add the 
stupidity of the black population to this amazing 
mass of ignorance, and then you may judge of the 
beneficent influence of slave institutions on the mind 
and morals of a rising generation, and on the social 
life of the Southern States. Notwithstanding, and 
carefully concealing this stupendous influence of evil, 
Mr. De Bow, the compiler of the United States’ Census, 
in his official report, has the audacity to say that 
“the social reunions of the Southern States, in a 
great measure, compensate for their want of the com- 
mon schools of the North!” I wonder if he never 
heard of social reunions at the North? Was he 
never at a husking, a soiree, a lecture, a sewing, or a 
spiritual circle, a bee, a surprise party, a “ social ”— 
or at any other of the innumerable “reunions” 
which are everywhere so uncommonly common in 
the Free States ? 

Chesterfield county, by the latest census, had five 
hundred and sixty-four farms; 87,180 acres im- 
proved, and 108,933 unimproved acres: the total 





IN VIRGINIA. 87 


value of which, with improvements and implements, 
was estimated at $1,562,286. The farms supported 
2.441 horses, 5,655 neat cattle, 6,020 sheep, and 
24,814 swine. They produced 95,875 bushels of 
wheat, 116,965 of oats and rye, 33,938 of Indian 
corn, 22,113 of Irish and sweet potatoes, 3,646 of 
peas and beans, 73,044 pounds of butter and cheese, 
2,892 tons of hay, 96 pounds of hops, and 608 
bushels of clover and other grass seeds. These 
figures, subdivided by the number of farms, will 
give the agricultural reader a better conception 
than I could give, or any description of their style 
of farming could give, of the manner in which slaves 
and slaveholders mutually assist each other in reject- 
ing and wasting the wealth which Nature lies pas- 
sively willing to bestow. 


THE POOR WHITES AND SLAVERY. 


I met and conversed with many of the poorer 
class of whites in my journey. All of them were 
conscious of the injurious influence that slavery was 
exerting on their social condition. If damning the 
negroes would have abolished slavery, it would have 
disappeared a long time ago, before the indignant 
breath of the poor white trash. But—it won't. 


A KNOW NOTHING. 





I slept at night at the house of Mr. §$ n, a 
planter and Baptist preacher. He has a farm of six 
hundred acres overlooking the Appomattox River. He 
has some thirty slaves, old and young. 

I rode down with one of his slaves to Wattron 
Mill—a mile or two. 

He had lived seven years with his master; did n’t 


88 THE ROVING EDITOR 


know how old he himself was; didn’t know how 
many acres there were in his master’s farm; didn’t 
know what land was worth, or how mules, horses and 
other farm stock sold; could not read nor write ; had 
never been at City Point, which was only three miles 
distant, according to his own account, although, in 
point of fact, it was nearer six; did not know how 
many slaves his owner had, or the name of the county 
we were in! ) 

One item of information, however, not generally 
known by slaves, nor always by whites, he did pos- 
sess: he did know who his father was! So he wasa 
wise boy after all—or the proverb is rather too liberal 
in its scope. 


FARMING UTENSILS. 


Mr. 8. walked down his farm with me in the morn- 
ing. I noticed a hoe, which was heavier, at least, 
than half a dozen Northern ones, and asked why he 
made them so clumsy. 

He said they were obliged to make everything 
heavy that negroes handled. If you gave a slave a 
Northern hoe or cradle in the nora he would be 
sure to break it before night, and probably in less 
than two hours. You couldn’t make them careful. 
Besides, he said, they preferred heavy implements ; 
you could not get them to use an axe that was less 
than six pounds weight. They said that it tired them 
more to use a light axe or hoe. 

I Paapewilionsat somewhere, to have heard of a slave 
who objected to the use of a light hoe, “’kase” he 
grumbled, “you has to put out your strength every 
time you puts it down, and in a ’Ginny hoe it 
goes into the ground, jest so, by its own weight.” 


IN VIRGINIA. 89 


Mr. §. said, he believed that this was the real ob- 
jection which the negro had to the Northern hoe. 

I noticed the great size of his fields—one was over 
fifty acres. He said they called that a small field 
here. 


GUANO AND NIGGERS. 


He had used guano, but did not like it. It was 
too great a stimulant, unless you put enough on to 
raise both a wheat and a clover crop; but the far- 
mers here could not afford to do it at the present rate 
of guano, and the uncertainty of the wheat crop. 

He thought niggers should be the happiest beings 
in the world. He believed his slaves made more 
money than he did. All he made was a living. They 
made that, or he made it for them; and then he 
allowed them that wanted, to keep a pig, to fish after 
their work was.over, and hunt. They sold their fish 
and game, and poultry and eggs. They had no care 
of the morrow; all their thinking he did for them. 

He admitted that Virginia would have been better 
off if never a negro had come there. 

Nearly all the slaveholders admit that fact. How 
to get rid of it—that is the mountain they all see, 
without industry or genius—alas! also, without even 
the desire to remove it. 

But it must be removed, or it will fall—“and great 
will be the fall of it!” 


THE SLAVEOCRACY AND THE POOR. 


Serr. 23.—I slept at the house of a petty farmer, a- 
few miles from Petersburg. We talked about slavery. 
He hasnoslaves. Heisa Virginian by birth. He owns 
about two hundred acres of land, which he cultivates 


90 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


with his family’s assistance. In this State, or in 
this section of it, two hundred acres are hardly 
accounted a farm. Five thousand and six thousand 
acre farms are very common. ‘The farmer, his wife, 
his daughter and son-in-law agreed in saying, that 
the poor people of Virginia are “looked down upon” 
by the slaveholding class as if they belonged to 
an inferior race. The old man said, also, that the 
majority of the non-slaveholders here are secret 
abolitionists. | 

I walked as far as Weldon, North Carolina, from 
Petersburg, and there I took the cars for Wilming- 
ton. 

On the road I had a talk with a Virginia slave, 
which I reserve for another chapter. 


bE 


TALK WITH A VIRGINIA SLAVE. hel 


SepremBer 25.—Thirty-three miles south of Peters- 
burg. In walking near the railroad, I met a man 
of color. 

“What time do you think it is?” I asked. 

“The sun is up *bout half an hour,” he said, po- 
litely touching his hat. 

“¢ At what hour does the sun rise just now ?” 

‘Dunno, mass’r.” 

“ How old are you ?” 

“ Forty-five year old, mass’r.” 

« Are you married ?” : 

“Yes, mass’r, I is.” 

“ Have you got any children?” 

“ Yes, mass’r, I’s got five.” 

“Did you ever try to run away ?” 

*‘ No, mass’r, I neber did.” 

“ Would n’t you like to go to the North?’ I asked, 
closely watching the expression of his eye. He hesi- 
tated. I knew, from experience, why. I therefore 
added : 

““T come from the North.” 

* Does you, mass’r?” said the slave, as he eyed 
me semi-suspiciously. 

“ Yes,” I replied, “would n’t you like to go there?” 

7 


92 THE ROVING EDITOR 


CONTENTMENT WITH SLAVERY. 


‘Yes, mass’r,” he answered promptly, “I would 
like bery much to go dar, but I neber ’spects to be 
dar.” 

“ Have you been a slave all your life ?” 

eros, anase’r.”’ 

“Do you know of any slaves round about here, 
who are contented with being in bondage ?” 

“No, mass’r,” he answered with emphasis, “ not 
one of dem. How could dey, mass’r? Dere’s no 
man wouldn’t sooner work for hisself dan for a boss, 
dat kicks and knocks us *bout all day, and neber 
‘lows us anyding for oursel’s.” 

“Do you work for your boss, or are you hired out?” 
I asked. | 

“‘] works for de boss.” 

“What kind of time do you have with him ?” 

“ Bery hard mass’r, bery hard. He works us all 
day, and neber ’lows us anyding for oursel’s at all 
from Christmas to Christmas.” 

“What! don’t he give you a present at Christ- 
mas ?” 

‘No, mass’r, not a cent. Some bosses do ’low 
someding at Christmas; but not my boss. He 
doesn’t even gib us ’bacca to chaw.” 

He was carrying a bag in which his day’s provi- 
sions and his tools were. He took out four apples, 
and offered them to me. 

“Will you gib me a piece of *bacca for dem, 
mass’r ?” 

Dozens of times, in Virginia, the Carolinas, and 
Georgia, have the slaves, working in the fields, come 
up to the fence, and obsequiously begged from me a 


IN VIRGINIA. 93 


piece of tobacco. There is no speedier way of get- 
ting into their confidence than by asking them when 
you meet them—“ If they want a chaw ?” and offer- 
ing them a plug to take a bite off. 

As I didn’t use tobacco, I could not give him a 
chew. 

“You think, then,’ I resumed, “that there is no 
slave who would not rather be a freeman ?” 

‘“‘7’m sartain on it, mass’r.” 

“Well,” said I, “I never met but one. He said 
he would rather be a slave than a freeman; but he, 
I guess, was a liar.” 

“Yes, mass’r,” returned the slave, emphatically, 
“he war a big liar, and you ought to hab slapped 
him on the mouth for sayin’ so. What slave-man 
wouldn’t rather work for hisself dan for a_ boss, 
mass’r 4” 


TREATMENT OF FEMALE SLAVES. 


“ Does your wife work all day as hard as you do?” 

“Yes, mass’r,” he replied, “and all my childer, 
too. De boss takes dem when dey is not so 
high ”—he levelled his hand within four feet of the 
earth’s surface—‘ and keeps dem at work till dey 
die.” ‘ 
“ Are the wives of slaves respected as married 
women ?” 

“No, mass’r, dey don’t make no diff’rence 
wedder de colored women is married or not. White 
folks jest do what dey have a mind to wid dem.” 

His tone was bitter as he spoke these words. 
There was an ominous light in his eye—the precur- 
sor, probably (I thought), of a terrible conflagration 


« 


94 ; THE ROVING EDITOR 


which is destined yet to burn up the oppressor and 
his works. 

“Do white people—I mean the bosses—ever act 
immorally to colored women on the plantation ?” 

“Yes, mass’r, bery of en, indeed.” 

“T should think, then,” I said, ‘that colored peo- 
ple who are married, and are parents, would be the 
most discontented with slavery ?” 

“JT dunno, mass’r,” said the slave, with a heavy 
heart-born sigh, “I knows /’s tired on it. I’s seen 
my daughter—treated so dat” 

He hesitated, looked savagely gloomy, muttered 
something to himself, and added: 

“Well, mass’r, /’s TrreED on it. Mass’r, is it bery 
cold at the North?” 

This question was asked by almost every slave 
with whom I conversed in Virginia and North 
Carolina. To each of them I made the same reply. 
In the winter, I said, it is a great deal colder than 
it is here; but not half so cold as the white people 
try to make you believe. Besides, people wear more 
clothes there than you do here, and do not feel the 
cold more than you do in Virginia. In Canada, in 
winter, it is very cold; a great deal colder than in 
the free States. In the free States a man may be 
taken back into bondage, if his boss discovers him: 





AN UNBELIEVING NEGRO. 


“No, oh, no, massa; dey can’t do dat,” said the 
slave, emphatically. 

“Yes, they can,” I rejoined, “but they are getting 
rather afraid to do it now.” 

“¢ Vo, massa, dey can’t do it,” returned the slave in 


IN VIRGINIA. 95 


a still more emphatic tone, and with that peculiar 
smile which uneducated people involuntarily assume 
when instructing others on subjects with which they 
suppose themselves to be thoroughly familiar, and 
their companion misinformed. 

I did not try to disabuse him of his error, for I 
knew that, perhaps before he escaped, the people of 
the North might refuse, with one accord, to act the 
degrading réle of bloodhounds any longer. Indeed 
how could I have undeceived him? How could I 
have begun to convince an uncorrupted mind of the 
existence, or even the possibility of such a creature 
as a doughface ? 

“In Canada,” I resumed, “if a colored man once 
gets there, he is safe for life. Canada belongs to the 
British, and they never deliver up a fugitive.” 

' “Yes, massa,” said the slave, “I belieb dat. <A 
great many white folks has told me dat, and I belieb 
it.” 

“ Although it is very cold in Canada,” I continued, 
‘Tl never found a negro there—and I saw great num- 
bers of them—who would return, if he could, to his 
old home and condition in the South.” 


TREATMENT OF FREE NEGROES. 


“T bliev dat,” said the slave, “I know if I could 
get away, I would n’t come back. Mass’r,” he 
added, “I’s heerd dat in England, a colored man is 
treated jest as well as dey do white folks. Is dat 
true, mass’r ?” 

“‘T believe so,” I replied. 


“Is colored people treated as well as white folks at 
de North?” 


96 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Why, no,” I was forced to reply, “not quite. 
There is a little prejudice everywhere, a great deal 
in some places, against them. But still, at the North, 
a colored person need never be insulted by a white 
man, as he is here, unless he be a coward, or a non- 
resistant Christian. He may strike back. It would 
not do to strike back here, would it?” 

“Oh Lor’, no! mass’r,” said the slave, looking as 
if frightened by the mere idea of such a thing; 
“dey would shoot us down jest as soon as if we was 
cats.” 

“Well,” I resumed, ‘a colored man at the North 
may strike back, and not be shot down.” 

I then related an incident; of which I was an eye 
witness. The last time that I travelled from Albany 
to Buffalo, a few months ago, there was a colored 
man in the cars with us.* A white bully, “ exqui- 
sitely ” dressed, with gold chain, and brooch, and 
diamond pin—in the height of the blackleg fashion— 
entered it at one station, and said to the African, in a 
loud domineering tone: 

“Get out, you d d nigger, and go to the South 
where you belong to.” 





The colored man arose, approached him, and 


applied every abusive epithet he could think of, 
interspersed with oaths, to his cowardly “ Circassian ” 
opponent. And J must admit, in justice to the 
negro’s memory and knowledge, that he did remem- 


* In the South, I may state here, ‘‘ the servants,” as the slaves are 
frequently styled, and the free persons of color, are put in the first 
half of the foremost car by themselves, unless they are females tra- 
velling with their mistress, when they sit by her side. The other 
half of the negro car is appropriated for smokers, and is always 
liberally patronized. 


| 





IN VIRGINIA. 97 


ber an extraordinary number of uncomplimentary 
phrases, and showed a genealogical fund of informa- 
tion which was surprising to every one present, and 
seemed perfectly to stagger the dandy. He told 
him, for example, that he knew his family; that his 
mother was a member of the canine race; and several 
‘other equally rare and entertaining facts of his per- 
sonal history. All snobs are cowards; so the negro 
remained unanswered. 

*“‘ Lor’, mass’r,” said the slave, after I had told him 
this incident, “it wouldn’t do to do dat here; dey 
would kill us right away.” 


CONCERNING LINEN. 


“ Tow many suits,” I asked, “are you allowed a 
year?” 

“Two, mass’r.”’ 

“Of course, you have two shirts?” 

“No, mass’r; only one at a time.” 

“How do you get it washed ?” 

“T washes it at night, and sleeps naked till it’s 
dry.” 

(The slaveholders, doubtless, hold to the Western 
boy’s philosophy of living, as illustrated in his 
answer to the gentleman who, seeing him naked, 
asked him where his shirt was. ‘“ Washing.” ‘“ Have 
you only one?” “Only one!” said the boy; “do you 
expect a feller to have a thousand shirts ?”’) 

We had some further talk about the country, and 
then went each our own way. 

He told me that he would risk the chance of flying 
at once, if he knew how to go. 


Be 


IS SLAVERY A CURSE?—VOICE OF OLD VIRGINIA. 


Mopverrn Virginia denies that slavery is a curse. 
It: is not very long ago since she adopted this 
opinion. 

When at Richmond I purchased a little volume of 
“‘Speeches on the Policy of Virginia in Relation to 
her Colored Population.” It is a very rare book 
now; it has long been out of print; and it is not 
likely to be speedily republished. It consists of a 
number of pamphlet speeches, bound together; most 
of them, as the title-page tells us, published by request. 
It is a genuine Virginia volume, as the names of the 
authors, printers, publishers, and the amazingly 
clumsy appearance of it, prove. These speeches 
were delivered in the House of Delegates of Virginia, 
in 1832, by the leading politicians of the State, 
shortly after the celebrated insurrection, or massacre 
(as the slaveholders style it) of Southampton—a 
period of intense excitement, when abolition was the 
order of the day, even in the stony-hearted Old 
Dominion. 

Is slavery a curse? Listen to the answer of 
Thomas Marshall, of Fauquier, then, as yet, one of 


the distinguished politicians of Virginia : 
98 





THE ROVING EDITOR. 99 


THOMAS MARSHALL'S OPINION. 


“Slavery is ruinous to the whites; it retards 
improvement; roots out our industrious population ; 
banishes the yeomanry of the country; deprives the 
spinner, the weaver, the smith, the shoemaker, the 
carpenter of employment and support. The rvm 
admits of no remedy. It is increasing, and will con- 
tinue to increase, wntil the whole country will be 
inundated by one black wave, covering its whole 
extent, with a few white faces, here and there, float- 
ing on its surface. The master has no capital but 
what is invested in human flesh; the father, instead 
of being richer for his sons, is at a loss how to pro- 
vide for them. ‘There is no diversity of occupations, 
no incentive to enterprise. Labor of every species 
is disreputable, because performed mostly by slaves. 
Our towns are stationary, our villages almost every- 
where declining ; and the general aspect of the coun- 
try marks the curse of a wasteful, idle, reckless 
population, who have no interest in the soil, and 
care not how much it is impoverished. Public im- 
provements are neglected, and the entire continent 
does not present a region for which nature has done 
so much and art so little. If cultivated by free 
labor, the soil of Virginia is capable of sustaining 
a dense population, among whom labor would be 
honorable, and where the busy hum of men would 
tell that all were happy, and all were free.” 


JOHN A. CHANDLER’S OPINION. 


The second speech was delivered by John A. 
Chandler, of Norfolk county : 
“The proposition, Mr. Speaker,’ 


> said he, “is not 


100 THE ROVING EDITOR 


whether the State shall take the slaves for public 
uses, but this: Whether the Legislature has the right 
to compel the owners of slaves, under a penalty, within 
a reasonable time, to remove the future increase out 
of the country.” 

His speech is devoted to the discussion of this 
proposition, and in it he takes the most ultra posi- 
tions. The Virginia slaveholder out-Garrisons Garri- 
son. He even introduces the golden rule as an argu- 
ment! In the opening paragraph, he says: 

“ It will be recollected, sir, that when the memorial 
from Charles City, was presented by the gentleman 
from Hanover, and when its reference was opposed, 
I took occasion to observe that I believed the people 
of Norfolk county would rejoice, could they even in 
the vista of time, see some scheme for the gradual 
removal of this cwrse from our land. I would have 
voted, sir, for its rejection, because I was desirous to 
see a report from the committee declaring the slave 
population an evil, and recommending to the people 
of this commonwealth the adoption of some plan for 
its riddance.” 

The words italicized are so marked by the orator. 


HENRY BERRY’S OPINION. 


The third speech, delivered by Henry Berry, of 
Jefferson, opens in these words: 

“Mr. Speaker: Coming from a county in which 
there are 4,000 slaves, being myself a slaveholder— 
and I may say further, that the largest interest in 
property that I have, lies about one hundred. miles 
east of the Blue Ridge, and consists of land and 
slaves. Under these circumstances, I hope I shall be 


IN VIRGINIA. 101 


excused for saying afew words on this important and 
deeply interesting subject. 

“That slavery is a grinding curse upon this State, 
I had supposed would have been admitted by all, 
and that the only question for debate here would 
have been the possibility of removing the evil. But, 
sir, in this I have been disappointed. Ihave been 
astonished to find that there are advocates here for 
slavery with all its effects. Sir, this only proves how 
Sar—how very far—we may be carried by pecuniary 
interest ; it proves what has been said by an immor- 
tal bard : 


‘That man is unco’ weak, 
And little to be trusted ; 
If self the wavering balance shake, 

Tis rarely right adjusted.’ 
Sir, I believe that no cancer on the physical 
body was ever more certain, steady, and fatal in its 
progress, than is this cancer on the political body of 
the State of Virginia. It is eating into her very 
vitals.” 


DANGER AHEAD. 

And again : 

“Like a mighty avalanche, the evil is rolling to- 
wards us, accumulating weight and impetus at every 
turn. And, sir, zf we do nothing to avert its pro- 
gress, will ultimately overwhelm and destroy us 
Forever.” 

And again : 

“Sir, although I have no fears for any general re- 
sults from the efforts of this class of our population 
now, still, sir, the time will come when there will be 
imminent general danger. Pass as severe laws as 
you will to keep these unfortunate creatures in igno- 


102 THE ROVING EDITOR 


rance, it is in vain, unless you can extinguish that 
spark of intellect which God has given them. Let 
any man who advocates slavery examine the system 
of laws that we have adopted (from stern necessity, 
it may be said) toward these creatures, and he may 
shed a tear upon that; and would to God, sir, the 
memory of it might thus be blotted out forever.” 


A DAMNING CONFESSION. 


“Sir, we have, as far as possible, closed every 
avenue by which light might enter ther minds: we 
have only to go one step further—to extinguish the 
capacity to see—and our work would be completed. 
They would then be reduced to the level of the beasts 
of the field, and we should be safe ; and L am not cer- 
tain that we would not do zt, if we could find out the 
necessary process, and that under plea of necessity. 
But, sir, this is impossible; and can man be in the 
midst of freedom and not know what freedom is? 
Can he feel that he has the power to assert his 
liberty, and will he not do it? Yes, sir, with the 
certainty of the current of time will he do it, when- 
ever he has the power. Sir, to prove that that time 
will come, I need offer no other argument than that 
of arithmetic, the conclusions from which are clear 
demonstrations on this subject. The data are all be- 
fore us, and every man can work out the process for 


himself. Sir, a death-struggle must come between the — 


two classes, im which one or the other will be extin- 
guished forever. Who can contemplate such a 
catastrophe as even possible, and be indifferent and 
inactive ?” 


IN VIRGINIA, | 103 


CHARLES JAMES FAULKNER’S OPINION. 


“Tf slavery can be eradicated,” said Charles 
James Faulkner, “in God’s name let us get rid 
of it.” 

Again : 

* An era of commercial intercourse is thus fondly. 
anticipated, in the fancy of these gentlemen, between 
the east and the west [of the State]. New ties and 
new attachments are now to connect us more closely 
in the bonds of an intimate and paternal union. 
Human flesh is to be the staple of that trade, human 
blood the cement of that connection. And in return 
for the rich products of our valleys, are we to re- 
ceive the nicely measured and graduated limbs of 
our species ? 

“Sir, a sagacious politician in this State, on the 
evening of the debate upon the presentation and 
reference of the Hanover petition, remarked to me, 
‘Why do you gentlemen from the west suffer your- 
selves to be fanned into such a tempest of passion ? 
The time will come, and that before long, when there 
will be no diversity of interest or feeling among us 
on this point—when we shall all equally represent a 
slaveholding interest.’ 


AN ELOQUENT PROTEST AGAINST SLAVERY EXTENSION. 


“Sir, it is to avert any such possible consequence 
to my country, that I, one of the humblest, but not 
the least determined of the western delegation, have 
raised my voice for emancipation. Sir, tax our 
lands, vilify our country, carry the sword of extermi- 
nation through our now defenceless villages, but 
spare us, | implore you, spare us the curse of slavery, 


7 


104 THE ROVING EDITOR 


that bitterest drop from the chalice of the destroying 
angel. 
_ “Sir, the people of the west, I undertake to say, 
feel a deep, a lively, a generous sympathy for their 
eastern brethren. They know that the evils which 
now afflict them are not attributable to any fault of 
theirs; that slavery was introduced against their 
will; that we are indebted for it to the commercial 
cupidity of that heartless empire, which has never 
failed to sacrifice every principle of right and justice, 
every feeling of honor and humanity, to the aggran- 
dizement of her commerce and manufactures. Sir, 
we have lands, we have houses, we have property, 
and we are willing to pledge them all, to any extent, 
to aid you in removing this eved. Yet we will not 
that you shall extend to us the same evils under 
which you labor. We will not that you shall make 
our fair domain the receptacle of your mass of po- 
litical filth and corruption. No, sir, before we can 
submit to such terms, violent convulsions must agi- 
tate this State.” 


INFLUENCE OF SLAVERY ON FREE WHITE LABOR. 


“Slavery,” he continued, “ it is admitted, is an evil 
which presses heavily against the best interests of the 
State. It banishes free white labor; it exterminates 
the mechanic, the artisan, the manufacturer ; it de- 
prives them of occupation. it deprives them of 
bread ; it converts the energy of a community into 
indolence—its power into imbecility—its eflicacy 
into weakness. Sir, being thus injurious, have we 
not a right to demand its extermination? Shall so- 
ciety suffer that the slaveholder may gather his crop 
of flesh ? What is his mere pecuniary claim com- 


IN VIRGINIA. 105 


pared with the great interests of the common weal ? 
Must the country languish, droop, die, that the slave- 
holder may flourish? Shall all interests be subser- 
vient to one? all rights subordinate to those of the 
slaveholder? Has not the mechanic—have not the 
middle classes their rights—rights tncompatible with 
the existence of slavery ?” 

Lest the reader should imagine that I am quoting 
from the files of the Ziberator—and in order that he 
may again peruse these extracts, and remember that 
they are culled from the speeches of Virginia slave- 
holders—I will reserve the remaining extracts for an- 
other chapter, and conclude by quoting from a letter 
of my own, which accompanied the little volume 
above alluded to, from the city of Richmond to a 
friend in New York. 


TREATMENT OF FREE NEGROES IN VIRGINIA. 


A free person of color told me to-day (Sept. 20th) 
that it.is an offence in Richmond, punishable with 
imprisonment and stripes on the bare back, fora 
negro, whether free or bond, male or female, to take 
the inside of the sidewalk in passing a white man! 
Negroes are required “to give the wall,” and, if 
necessary, to get off the sidewalk into the street. 
Rowdies take great pleasure, whenever they see a 
well-dressed colored person with his wife approach- 
ing, to walk as near the edge of the pavement as pos- 
sible, in order to compel them to go into the street, 
or to incur the extreme and barbarous penalty of the 
law. Gentlemen of course would not do so; but in 
Richmond, as elsewhere, the majority of the male 
sex are neither gentlemen nor men. 


In walking in the Southern cities, I have very often 
Fk 


106 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


been annoyed at seeing an old man or a woman, as I 
approached them, getting off the sidewalk altogether. 
Another custom of the colored people down South 
has frequently irritated my democratic nerves. Ex- 
cepting in the business streets of the far Southern 
cities—or in such a place as New Orléans, where 
there is no time to spare, and too much of the old 
French gentility to tolerate so despicable a practice— 
whenever a slave meets a Saxon—“ivin, be jabers, 
if he’s a Cilt”—-he touches his hat reverentially. 
In Georgia, Florida, and South Carolina, and even in 
some parts of Virginia and North Carolina, if you 
enter into a conversation with a colored man, and 
keep looking at him as you speak, he touches 
his cap every time that he answers your: inter- 
rogatories, unless you expressly command him to 
desist. Perhaps this custom is the consequence of a 
legal enactment, also; but it is certainly the result 
of the imperious lew non seripta of the Southern 
States. 


IY. 


SLAVERY AND FREEDOM COMPARED. 


You feel sure that you were not reading from the 
Liberator’s files ? 

If you do go, let us quote, once more, from the 
speech of Charles James Faulkner, of Virginia: 

“Sir, I am gratified to perceive that no gentleman 
has yet risen in this hall the avowed advocate of 
slavery. The day has gone by when such a voice 
could be listened to with patience, or even with for- 
bearance. I even regret, sir, that we should find those 
amongst us who enter the lists of discussion as its 
apologists, except alone upon the ground of uncon- 
trollable necessity. And yet who could have listened 
to the very eloquent remarks of the gentleman from 
Brunswick without being forced to conclude that he, 
at least, considered slavery, however not to be de- 
fended upon principle, yet as being divested of much 
of its enormity as you approached it in practice? 

“Sir, if there be one who concurs with that gen- 
tleman in the harmless character of this institution, 
let me request him to compare the condition of the 
slaveholding portion of this commonwealth—barren, 
desolate and seared, as it were, by the avenging hand 


of heaven—with the descriptions which we have of 
101 


108 THE ROVING EDITOR 


this same country from those who first broke its vir- 
gin soil ? 

“To what is this change ascribable ? 

“Alone to the withering and blasting effects of 
slavery. 

“Tf this does not satisfy him, let me request him to 
extend his travels to the Northern States of this 
Union, and beg him to contrast the happiness and 
contentment which prevails throughout that coun- 
try—the busy and cheerful sound of industry—the 
rapid and swelling growth of the population—their 
means and institutions of education—their skill and 
proficiency in the useful arts—their enterprise and 
public spirit—the monuments of their commercial 
and manufacturing industry; and, above all, their 
devoted attachment to the government from which 
they derive their protection, with the division, dis- 
content, indolence and poverty of the Southern 
country. 

“To what, sir, is all this ascribable ? 

“ To that vice in the organization of society, by 
which one half of its inhabitants are arrayed, in in- 
terest and feeling, from the other half—to that unfor- 
tunate state of society in which freemen regard labor 
as disgraceful, and slaves shrink from it as a burden 
tyranmecally umposed upon them—to that condition 
of things in which half a million of your population 
can feel no sympathy with the society in the pros- 
perity of which they are forbidden to participate, and 
no attachment to a government at whose hands they 
receive nothing but injustice. 

“Tf this should not be sufficient, and the curious 
and incredulous inquirer should suggest that the con- 
trast which has been adverted to, and which is so 


IN VIRGINIA. 109 


manifest, might be traced to a difference of climate, 
or other causes distinct from slavery itself, permit 
me to refer him to the two States of Kentucky and 
Ohio. No difference of soil, no diversity of climate, 
no diversity in the original settlement of those two 
States can account for the remarkable disproportion 
in their natural advancement. Separated by a river 
alone, they seem to have been purposely and provi- 
dentially designed to exhibit in their future histories, 
the difference which naturally results from a country 
free, and a country afflicted with the curse of sla- 
very. The same may be said of the two States of 
Missouri and Illinois.” 

Surely this is satisfactory testimony ? 

Thomas J. Randolph spoke next, and in the same 
strain as the preceding speakers. 

Is slavery a curse ? 

Marshall, Barry, Randolph, Faulkner, and Chandler 
answer in the affirmative ; and thus replies Mr. James 
McDowell, junior, the delegate from Rockbridge : 


SLAVERY A LEPROSY. 


“Sir, if our ancestors had exerted the firmness, 
which, under greater obligations we ourselves are 
called on to exert, Virginia would not, at this day, 
have been mourning over the legacy of weakness, 
and of sorrow that has been left her; she would not 
have been thrust down—down—in a still lowering 
relation to the subordinate post which she occupies 
in the Confederacy, whose career she has led; she 
would not be withering under the leprosy which ws 
preercing her to her heart.” 

Again: 


* 


110 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Tf I am to judge from the tone of our debate, 
from the concessions on all hands expressed, there is 
not a man in this body, not one, perhaps, that is 
even represented here, who would not have thanked 
the generations that have gone before us, if, acting 
as public men, they had brought this bondage to a 
close—who would not have thanked them, if, acting 
as private men, on private motives, they had relin- 
quished the property which their mistaken kindness 
has devolved upon us? Proud as are the names, for 
intellect and patriotism, which enrich the volumes 
of our history, and reverentially as we turn to them 
at this period of waning reputation, that name, that 
man, above all parallel, would have been the chief 
who could have blotted out this curse from his coun- 
try ; those above all others would have received the 
homage of an eternal gratitude who, casting away 
every suggestion of petty interest, had broken the 
yoke which, in an evil hour, had been imposed, and 
had transplanted, as a free man, to another continent, 
the outcast and the wretched being who burdens ours 
with his presence, and who defiles it with his crimes.” 


DANGEROUS PROPERTY. 


In another part of his speech he says : 

“ Slavery and danger are inseparable.” 

Such, indeed, appears to have been the unanimous 
opinion of the numerous delegates who spoke on this 
occasion, as well as of those who were silent. Says 
Mr. McDowell : 

“Jn this investigation there is no difficulty— 
nothing has been left to speculation or inquiry; for 
however widely gentlemen have differed upon the 
power and the justice of touching this property, they 


IN VIRGINIA. 111 


have yet united in a common testimony to its charac- 
ter. It has been frankly and unequivocally declared, 
from the very commencement of this debate, by the 
most decided enemies of abolition themselves, as well 
as by others, that this property is an evzd—that it is 
dangerous property. Yes, sir, so dangerous has it 
been represented to be, even by those who desire to 
retain it, that we have been reproached for speaking 
of it otherwise than in fireside whispers—reproached. 
for entertaining debate upon it in this hall; and the 
discussion of it with open doors, and to the general 
ear, has been charged upon us as a climax of rash- 
ness and folly which threatens issues of calamity to 
the country.” 

Before concluding, he reiterates the assertion : ‘Vo 
one disguises,” he says, “the danger of this property 
—that it is inevitable, and that vt vs increasing.” 

(“The slaveholder in the Carolina forests,” truly 
said the Wew York Times, “trembles at his fireside 
every time that he hears the report of a solitary rifle 
in the woods.”’) 


A BEAUTIFUL DOMESTIC INSTITUTION. 


Mr M’Dowell proceeds to unfold the exceeding 
beauty of slavery as a domestic institution : 

“Tt is quaintly remarked by Lord Bacon, that 
‘liberty is a spark which flieth into the face of him 
who attempteth to trample it under foot.’ And, sir, 
of all conceivable or possible situations, that which 
the slave now occupies in the domestic services of our 
families is precisely the one which clothes this irre- 
pressible principle of his nature with the fearfullest 
power—precisely the one which may give that prin- 


112 THE ROVING EDITOR 


ciple its most fatal energy and direction. Who that 
looks upon his family, with the slave in its bosom, 
ministering to its wants, but knows and feels that 
this is true? Who but sees and knows how much 
the safety of that family depends upon forbearance, 
how little can be provided for defence? Sir, you 
may exhaust yourself upon schemes of domestic de- 
fence, and when you have examined every project 
which the mind can suggest, you will at last have 
only a deeper consciousness that nothing can be done. 
No, sir, nothing for this purpose can be done. The 
curse which, in combination with others, has been 
denounced against man as a just punishment for his 
sins—the curse of having an enemy in lis household, 
7s upon us. We have an enemy there, to whom our 
dwelling is at all times accessible, our persons at all 
times, our lives at all times, and that by manifold 
weapons, both visible and concealed. 

“But, sir, I will not expatiate further on this view 
of the subject. Suffice it to say, that the defenceless 
situation of the master, and the sense of injured right 
in the slave, are the best possible preparatives for 
conflict—a conflict, too, which may be considered 
more certainly at hand whenever and wherever the 
numerical ascendency of the slave shall inspire him 
with confidence in his force.” 


SLAVERY A NATIONAL EVIL. 


Mr. McDowell regards slavery as a national as 
well as a State and domestic calamity. With this 
passage from his speech, I will close the little volume 
of Truths by Taskmasters : 

“The existence of slavery creates a political inte- 
rest in the Union, which is of all others the most 


IN VIRGINIA. 113 


positive ; an interest which, in relation to those who 
do not possess it, is adversary and exclusive; one 
which marks the manners of our country by a corres- 
ponding distinction, and is sowing broadcast amongst 
us, both in our official and private intercourse, the 
seeds of unkindness and suspicion. On this interest 
geographical parties have been formed ; on its mainte- 
nance or restriction the bitterest struggles have been 
waged in Congress; and, as it contains an ingredient 
of political power in our Federal Constitution, it will 
always be the subject of struggle; always defended 
by the most vigilant care, and assailed by the most 
subtile counter action. Slaveholding and non- 
slaveholding must necessarily constitute the charac- 
teristic feature of our country—must necessarily form 
the broad and indivisible interest upon which parties 
will combine, and will and does comprehend, in the 
jealousies which now surround it, the smothered and 
powerful, but, I hope, not the irresistible causes of 
future dismemberment. To all of its other evils, 
then, slavery superadds the still further one of being 
a cause of national dissension—of being a fixed 
and repulsive element between the different members 
of our Republic—itself impelling with strong ten- 
dency, and aggravating all smaller tendencies to 
political distrust, alienation and hostility.” 

Let no man accuse me of unfriendliness to the 
slaveholders. See how willing I have been to put 
their honorable and patriotic sentiments on record ! 


V. 


NORTH CAROLINA. 


Wexpon, North Carolina, is a hamlet, or town, or 
“city -—I don’t know what they call it—consisting 
of a railroad depot, a hotel, a printing-office, one or 
two stores, and several houses. Whether it has 
increased in population or remained stationary since 
my visit to it—September 26, 1854—I have now no 
means of ascertaining.* 


TALK WITH A YOUNG SLAVE. 


In returning from a walk in the woods, by which 
Weldon is surrounded, I came up to a young negro 
man who was lying on the ground in the shade of a 
tree, holding a yearling ox by a rope. 

“Ts that all you have got to do?” I asked. 

“No, mass’r,” said he; “I’s waitin’ for a waggon 
to come ’long.” 

I entered into a conversation with him. He 
answered all my questions without hesitation. He 


* Mr. Helper, author of that valuable anti-slavery volume—“ The 
Impending Crisis of the South”—informs me that it is now a town 
of 700 inhabitants. 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 115 


said that he would run the risk of capture, and try 
to reach the North; and he believed that dozens— 
“ves, mass, lots and lots” of the slaves in this 
neighborhood—would fly to the North, ¢f they knew 
the way. It was not the fear of being captured, 
he said, that prevented them from running away, 
but ignorance of the proper route to the Free 
States. 

Several slaves had told me so before, but I had 
never been able to devise a plan to remedy this igno- 
rance, and thereby give to every brave bondman a 
chance of escaping from slavery. The north star is 
like the white man, “too mighty onsartin” for the 
majority of the slaves to rely on: they need a guide, 
which will serve them both by day and night—when- 
ever they can see it. Dark and cloudy nights, too, 
when the north star is invisible, are the most propi- 
tious for the purpose of the runaway. 

As this slave replied to my questions, I thought 
that POCKET MARINER’S CoMPASsES might be made 
most effective liberators of the African race. 


MAGNETIC LIBERATORS. 


I pondered on this subject for a few seconds, and 
then resumed the conversation : 

“Did you ever see the face of a watch?” (The 
question may seem absurd, but there are thousands 
of slaves who never saw a watch.) 

“ Yes, mass’r,” said the slave. 

“ Do you a how the hands of it go round?” 

“ Yes, mass’r.” 

“ Well, we”’—I spoke as a member of the human 
ae Fro have invented a thing somewhat like a 
watch; but instead of going pound and round, its 


116 THE ROVING EDITOR 


hand always points to the North. Now, if we were 
to give you one of these things, would you run 
away ?” 

“Yes, mass’r,” said the slave with emphasis; “I 
would go to-night—and dozens on us would go too.” 

I described the perils of a runaway’s course 
as vividly as I could. He answered it by say- 
ing: 

“‘ Well, mass’r, I doesn’t care; I'd try to get to de 
Norf, if P’'d one of dem dings.” 


2 


THE OLD BAPTIST. SLAVE. 


At the same place, early one morning (for I was 
detained here several days), I saw an old colored 
man sitting on a pile of wood near the railroad cross- 
ing. Beside him lay his bag of carpenter’s tools. I 
went up to him. He touched his cap. 

‘Good morning, old man,” I said. 

‘Good mornin’ to you, mass’r,” he rejoined. 

* Are you a carpenter?” I asked. 

“Yes, mass’; in a rough way.” 

“¢ How old are you?” 

“¢ Sixty-two year ole, mass’r.” 

“You stand your age very well, old man, I 
returned. I hardly thought you were more than fifty. 
But I have often noticed that colored people looked 
much younger than they are. What is that owing 
to, do you know?” 

“ Well, mass’r,” said he, “I dink it’s kase dey’s 
*bliged to live temp’rate. White folks has plenty ob 
money, and da drinks a good deal ob liquor; colored 
people kent drink much liquor, kase da hasn’t got 
no money. Drinkin’, mass’r,” remarked the negro, 
with the air of a doctor of divinity, “ drinkin’, 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 117 


mass’, “ill bring a man down sooner’n anyding; 
and I dink it’s kase de colored people doesn’t drink 
~ dat da look younger dan de white ole folks.” 

I have said that I had often noticed this peculiar- 
ity, but had never been able to account for it. The 
old man’s solution satisfied me. Negroes in the 
country, however, sometimes procure liquor from the 
small groceries, by stealing fowls and other farm 
produce from their masters. Hence I found, on my 
previous visit to North Carolina, that the slave- 
holders were warm advocates of the Maine liquor 
law. 

“¢ Are you a free man?” 

“No, mass’r,” he replied; “T’s a slave. 

“T come from the North,” I returned; “would 
you like to go there?” 

“ Yes, mass’r,” he said; “I would like to go dare 
very much.” 

‘“‘Of course, you are a married man ?” 

“T’s been married twice, mass’r.” 

“‘ Have you any children ?” 


SEPARATION OF FAMILIES. 


“ Yes, mass’r,” said the slave. “I had twelve by 
my firs’ wife. I got her when she was seventeen, 
and I lived wid her twenty-four years. Den da 
sold her and all de chiVren. I married anoder wife 
*bout nine years since; but I had her little more 
dan tree years. Da sold her, too.” 

“ Wad you any children by her?” 

“No, mass’r; and I hasn’t had anyding to do wid 
women since. I’s a Baptist; and its agin my religion 
to have anyting to do wid anybody ’cept my wife. 


118 THE ROVING EDITOR 


Ts never bothered anybody since my last wife was 
sold away from me.” 

“Tt’s too bad,” said I. Not with a smile—for I 
never smile when I hear of men, from any motive, 
whether religious or social, deprived by other men 
of the God-implanted necessities of their natures. 
If slavery had no other evils, the fact that it so often 
separates families, forever, and causes men to lead 
unnatural lives, and commit unnamed and unnatural 
crimes, would make me an abolitionary insurrec- 
tionist. 

“It’s too bad,” I repeated. 

“Yes, mass’r,” said he, “it zs too bad; but we 
has to pabnee 2» 


COLORED CONTENTMENT. 


“Do you know,” I asked, “whether there are any 
slaves who would rather remain in bondage than 
_ be free?” 

“No, mass’r, not one,” he — i Soran asic 
“ Dare’s not one im this county.” 

*¢ Did you ever see one man,” I asked, “in all your 
life, who would rather be a slave than a freeman ?” 

‘¢ No, mass’r.” 

Remember his age, reader—sixty-two years—and 
then believe, if you choose, that the slaves are con- 
tented.) 

“Old as you are,” I said, “I suppose you would 
like to be free?” 

“‘'Yes, mass r”—sadly, very sadly —“TI should like 
bery much to spend de very few years I’s got to live 
in freedom. I would give any man $20 to $30 down, 
if he could get me free.” 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 119 


“How much do you think your master would 
sell you for?” 

*¢ $200, I tink, mass’r.” 

“Do you work for your boss, or are you hired 
out,” I inquired. 

“‘T works,” he rejoined, “ wharver I kin get work. 
I gives my boss $50 or $60 a year—jest as 1 happens 
to make well out—and I works anywhars in the 
State. I’s got a pass dat lets me go anywhar in de 
State—but not out on it.” 

“ How much can you make a year?” 

“ Well, mass’r, if I could get constant work all de 
time, I could make $160; but I generally makes ’bout 
$80 or $90.” 

“Why,” I said, musing, “if anybody were to buy 
you—lI mean, if an abolitionist were to buy you— 
you could repay the money in a couple of years if 
you were to get constant work.” 

“Yes, mass’r,” he promptly added, “I conld—and 
I would be glad to do it too.” 

“You said you never knew a colored person who 
preferred slavery to freedom ?” 

‘¢ No, mass’r, I neber knew one.” 

“ Well, but did you ever know a colored person 
who sad he preferred slavery ?” 

“Oh, yes, mass’r,” said the slave, “I’s knowed 
plenty dat would say so to white folks; kase if the 
boss knowed we wanted to be freemen, he would kick 
and knock us *bout, and maybe kill us. Dey of’en 
does kill dem on de plantations.” | 


MURDER WILL OUT. 


“Did you ever sce a slave killed on a plantation?” 
He replied that he did once see a girl killed ona 


120 THE ROVING EDITOR 


plantation in Georgia. He said that he heard his 
boss, a person of the name of Rees, tell his overseer 
to take some slaves down to Brother Holmes in (1 
think) Gainsborough county—or from Gainsborough 
to Hancock county—for I have forgotten which of 
them the old man named first—and, said the brute, 
“with what niggers I have got there and these, I 
think I can raise a crop. If you kill two niggers 
and four horses and don’t raise a crop, I’ll not 
blame you; but if you don’t, and still don’t raise 
a crop, I’ll think you haven’t drove them at all.” 
The monster added—“ You need n’t be afraid of kill- 
ing that many; I can afford to lose them.” 

One day this overseer came up to a girl who was 
rather lagging behind. Naming her, he said: 

“T say, I thought I told ‘you to mend your gait.” 

“Well, mass’r,” she said, “ I’se so sick I kin hardly 
drag one foot after the other.” 

He stooped down—he was a left-handed man—and 
laid down his lash. He took up a pine root and 
made a blow at her head. She tried to avoid the 
blow, and received the weight of it on her neck. 
The old man—then a stripling—was obliged, he 
said, to stand aside to let her fall. She was taken 
up insensible, and lingered till the following morn- 
ing. Next day she was buried. This wretch killed | 
another slave during the same season, but my in- 
formant did not see the fatal blow struck. 


PLANTATION LIFE. 


The old man told this story in such a manner that 
no one could have doubted its truth. I cross-exa- 
mined him, and his testimony was unimpeachable. 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 121 


“‘ How long is it since this happened?” I inquired. 

“Forty-two years since,” said the slave. 

After some further conversation on this event, I 
asked him : 

“ How much could you make by carpentering 
when you were young?” 

“JT didn’t work at de carpenterin’ trade, mass’r, 
when I was young,” he replied; “I worked on a 
plantation. I was de head man. I had twenty or 
thirty niggers under me”—rather proudly spoken— 
“but,” he added, the Baptist overcoming the carnal 
man, ‘dat’s no place for a man dat has religion.” 

RW try ¥"? 

“Oh, mass’r, kase a man dat has religion should n’t 
rule over anybody.” 

“Why?” I again asked. ‘What do you mean?’ 

‘Oh, kase, mass’r,” he replied, “a man dat has 
religion cannot bear to whip and kick de people 
under him as dey has to do on plantations.” 

* Are colored people treated very badly ?” I asked. 

“‘ Oh, yes, mass’r,” he answered, “ very bad indeed ;- 
it’s hard de way dey ar treated.” 

We talked of several other subjects. He said that 
if the colored people in this district were to be pro- 
vided with compasses—the nature of which I ex- 
plained to him—hundreds of them would fly to the 
Free States of the North. 

“God bless you, mass’r!” he said heartily, as we 
parted. 

It is a good thing, I thought, to be an abolitionist! 
However apparently alone and neglected the aboli- 
tionist may be, he has at least the consolation of 
knowing that he has four millions of warm-hearted 
friends in the Southern States! 

6 


122 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


Ah! but has the pro-slavery man no equal conso- 
lation ? 

“It is a good thing to be a Democrat in these 
days,” said the Washington Union—the organ of the 
Cabinet—quite recently, after publishing ten mortal 
columns of the most profitable kind of government 
advertisements. 

Well, be it so; every man to his taste! 


VI. 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 


I continvE my extracts from my Diary : 

September 28.—At Weldon. This morning I took 
a walk in the woods. A colored man, driving a 
horse and wagon, was approaching. I accosted him 
and got into the wagon. 

We soon began to talk about slavery. 


AFRAID OF THE ABOLITIONISTS. 


He said that he had often seen me within the last 
few days, and that the people in this district were 
very much afraid of the abolitionists coming down 
here and advising the negroes to run away. When- 
ever a stranger came here, they asked one another 
who he was, and used every means in their power to 
discover his business. He advised me not to trust 
the free colored population, because many of them 
were mean enough to go straight to the white people 
and tell them that a stranger had been talking to 
them about freedom. He advised me also to be cau- 
tious with many of the slaves, because there were 
many of them who would go and tell. But there 
were many, too, who would rather die than betray 


an abolitionist. 
"128 


124 THE ROVING EDITOR 


THE WAGONER. 


He said that he would run the risk of capture if he 
had a compass or a friend to direct him to the North. 
Ignorance of the way, he added, was the chief ob- 
stacle in preventing the slaves in this district from 
escaping to the North. Dozens, he said, were ready 
to fly. 

We came up to a colored man who was chopping 
in the woods. 

“ Now there,” said the wagoner, “is a man who 
would not tell what you said to him, and would like 
very much the chance of being free.” 

We had previously met a boy driving oxen that 
were drawing logs to town. This man was chopping 
the trees for him. They both belonged to the same 
master, who is described by his slaves, as well as by 
other colored people, as a type of the tribe of Legree. 

We met, also, two wagons laden with cotton. 
“ These,” said the wagoner, “ these come from right 
away up the country, and very likely these boys— 
the drivers—have travelled all night.” 

I bade the wagoner farewell, and went up to the 
axeman. 

THE AXEMAN. 

He was a powerful, resolute-looking negro. A 
cast in one of his eyes gave him an almost savagely 
dogged appearance. 

“Good day, friend.” 

“ Good day, mass’r.” 

“You are a slave ?” 

eT) O8y SB. 

“Who do you belong to ?” 

“ Mr. D ing 





IN NORTH CAROLINA. 125 


“TY am told he is a pretty hard master ? 

A pause. I was under examination. 

“IT come from the North,” I said. 

*“‘ Yes, sah,” said the slave, who seemed to be satis- 
fied with my appearance, “ he zs a very hard master.” 

“¢ Have you ever run away ?” 

“Yes ; I have run away twice.” 

* Did you run North ?” 

“No,” he replied; “Iam told no one kin get to 
de North from here without being taken. Besides, 
I do n’t know de way.” 

** How far did you run ?” 

“] just went round to de next county,” he said. 

“Tf you knew the way to the North, would you try 
to get there?” I inquired. “ Would you run the risk 
of being captured and brought back ?” 

“ Yes, mass’r,” said the slave, in a manly tone, “I 
would try ; but dey would never bring me back again 
alwe.” 

I explained the nature and uses of a compass. 

“Tf I gave you one of these things,” I added, 
“ would you risk it ?” 


ARM THE SLAVES. 

“Yes, mass’r, I would; but I would like to have a 
pistol and a knife, too.” 

He said that he did not care about the hardships 
a runaway must endure, for they could not be greater 
than the hardships he endured with his present 
owner. 

“Would you be afraid,” I asked, “ or would you 
hesitate for a moment to shoot a man if he tried to 
capture you ?” 

“No, sah,” he said, as if he meant what he said, 


126 THE ROVING EDITOR 


““T-would shoot him rather dan be taken agin; for 
dey would kill me any how if dey got me back 
agin.” 

“Good,” I said; ‘you deserve to be free! Has 
your boss ever killed any of his slaves ?” 


MURDER AND TORTURES. 


“ He killed one. The boy ran away, and when 
they got him back they lashed him and kicked him 
about so that he only lived a week.” 

“‘ Does he often lash them ?” I inquired. 

“‘ Oh, very often,” said the slave. 

‘¢ How many does he give them at a time?” 

“Vifty,” he replied, “and seventy-five and a hun- 
dred sometimes. I saw three men get seventy-five 
apiece last Sunday. He drives dem very hard, and 
if dey don’t work like beasts, he lashes dem him- 
self, or if he is too tired to do it, he gets his son or a 
colored man to do it for him.” 

“J should-think,” I said, “ that seventy-five lashes 
would be enough to kill a man.” 

“Oh!” said the slave, “it is very bad; but dey 
have to go to their work again the same asever. He 
just washes their backs down with salt water, and 
sends them to work again.” 

‘Washes their sore backs with salt water!” I 
ejaculated; for although I knew that this infernal 
operation is frequently performed in South Carolina, 
still I cannot hear of it without a shudder of disgust. 
“What do they do that for?” 

“To take the soreness out of it, dey say.” 

(It is to prevent mortification.) 

“ But,” I continued, “is it not very painful to be 
washed in that way ?” 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 127 


“Yes, sah, very,” said the slave, “dat does n’t 
make any difference. He (the boss) does not care 
for dat.” ; 


WORK—WORK—WORK. 


“ What are your working hours?” I asked. 

“From two hours before reas till ten o’clock 
at night.” 

= Do you think that the slaves are more discon- 
tented now than they used to be?” 

“Yes, sah,” said he, “dey are getting more and 
more discontented every year. De times is getting 
worse and worse wid us, ’specially,” he added, 
“since dese engines have come in here.” 

_ “What difference do they make ?” I asked, suppos- 
ing that he alluded to the Indians. 

“Why,” said he, “‘ you see it is so much easier to 
carry off the produce and sell it now; ’cause they 
take it away so easy; and so the slaves are druv 
more and more to raise it.” 

“JT see. Do you think that if we were to give the 
slaves compasses, that ‘lots’ of them would run 
away ?” 

“Lots an’ lots on dem,” he replied, Sibel tire 
every syllable. 

“Would you run away even without a pistol?” 

“ Yes, sah,” he said, “I would risk it; but I would 
rather have a pistol and knife, too, if possible.” 

“How did you live before when you ran away ?” 

“JT walked about at night, and kept mighty close 
all day.” 

“Where did you find food ?” 

“JT went,” he said,’“to de houses of my friends 
about here, and they gave me something to eat.” 


128 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“I suppose you would like to have some money, 
too, if you were going to the North?” . 

“Yes, mass’r,” said he, “I would like to; ’cause 
if a man has money he can get food easily any- 
whar; and he can’t allus without it. But I would 
try it even without money.” 

« Are you married %” 

“Yes, sah.” 

“ Any children ?” 

“No, sah.” 


CLOTHING, ETC. 


“What would you do with your wife, if you were 
to run away ?” I asked. 

‘‘T would have to leave her,” he said; “ she would 
be very willing, ’cause she knows she can’t help me, 
and I might help her if I was once free.” 

*“‘ How old are you ?” 

“ Thirty-five.” 

“How many suits of clothing do you get in the 
year?” 

pat le cates 

“ Only one shirt at a time?” 

ce Vies.”? 

The shirt of the slaves in this State—of course I 
allude to rural slaves—appears to be a cross between 
a “gent’s under-garment” and an ordinary potato- 
bag. The cloth is very coarse. 

“Does the boss allow you anything for yourself?’ 

“Nothing,” he said, and looking at his used-up 
boots— 

“He hardly keeps us in shoes,” he added. 

“Now, when would you run away if you had a 
compass ?” 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 129 


“J will run away to-night,” he replied firmly, “if 
you will only give me one of them things.” 


PLAN OF EMANCIPATION. 


In a public letter, published at this time in an 
anti-slavery journal—dated at Weldon, or posted 
there—I offered the following programme of action 
for the abolition of slavery in the Northern Slave 
States. 

Although I believe now that the speediest method 
of abolishing slavery, and of ending the eternal 
hypocritical hubbub in Congress and the country, is 
to incite a few scores of rattling insurrections—in a 
quiet, gentlemanly way—simultaneously in different 
parts of the country, and by a little wholesome 
slaughter, to arouse the conscience of the people 
against the wrong embodied in Southern institutions, 
still, for the sake of those more conservative minds, 
who are not yet prepared to carry out a revolutionary 
scheme, I will quote it, as I wrote it, and insert it 
here : 

“Tf I had a good stock of revolving pistols ”»— 
thus this peaceful programme opens—“ and as many 
pocket-compasses, I would not leave this State until 
I had liberated, at least, a hundred slaves. Already 
I have spoken to great numbers of them—negroes 
and mulattoes—resolute and bold men, who are 
ready to fly if they knew the route, and had the 
means of defending themselves from the blood- 
hounds, whether aracmarse or bipeds. 

“Let not the Abolitionists of the North fe des 
ceived. The South will never liberate her slaves, 
unless compelled by rear to do so; or unless the 
activity of the abolitionists renders .human property 

6* 


130 THE ROVING EDITOR 


so insecure a possession as to be separewely 
worthless to its owner. 

“ Abolitionists of the North! Would you liberate 
the slaves of the South as speedily as possible? I 
will tell you how to do it within ten, or, at furthest, 
twenty years. 

“ First. Fight with all your hearts, souls and 
strength, until the Fugitive Slave Law be repealed. 
As soon as the Northern States are as secure against 
the invasions of the slaveholder as Canada is to-day, 
three-fourths of our coming victory will be won. 
We need a sterner public sentiment at the North. 
When the people shall believe that the corpse of a 
tyrant is the most acceptable sacrifice that we can 
offer to the Deity—when juries shall find a verdict 
of Served Him Right on the body of every kid- 
napper, or United States Commissioner, who shall 
attempt to return a slave to bondage, and may be 
shot, as he deserves to be, for the cowardly crime; 
then, we will hear of no more attempts to extend 
the area of Human Bondage—only plaintive appeals 
for the toleration of the iniquity in States where it 
already exists. 

‘“‘ Second. Let us carry the war into the South. We 
have confined ourselves too long to the Northern 
States. We have already, in a great measure, won 
the battle there. The public defenders of slavery 
are rapidly retreating to the Southern States. Let 
us follow and fight them until the last man falls! 

“In the South there are three great parties—the 
slaveholder, the pro-slavery non-slaveholder, and the 
anti-slavery non-slaveholder. Great numbers of the 
slaveholders secretly believe slavery to be a curse, 
and some of them would liberate their slaves now, if 


IN NORTH CAROLINA. 131 


appealed to in the ‘proper spirit.’ Let arguments in 
favor of abolition—especially arguments extracted 
from the writings of Southern statesmen-—be dili- 
gently circulated among this class of slaveholders. 
It is useless to argue with the other class of slave- 
holders; for it is impossible to convince them of their 
crime: for them let the deadly contents of the revol- 
ver and the keenest edge of the sabre be reserved. 

** Appeals should be addressed to good men ; proofs 
that slavery is a curse to the non-slaveholding popu- 
lation—by increasing their taxes, driving away com- 
merce, manufactories and capital from the State— 
which can easily be done—should be furnished to 
the pro-slavery non-slaveholders who are invulner- 
able to all ideas of justice. 

“Let the anti-slavery population of the South be 
associated by forming a secret society similar to the 
Odd Fellows, or the Masons, or the Blue Lodges of 
Missouri, and let this union be extended over the 
entire country. The societies could circulate tracts, 
assist slaves in escaping, and direct the movements 
of the agents of the Grand Lodge. 

“ Third. Begin at the borders. In every free border 
town and village, let an underground railroad be in 
active operation. Appoint a small band of bold but 
cautious men to travel in the most northern Slave 
States for the purpose of securing the codperation of 
the free colored population in assisting fugitives; of 
disseminating discontent among the slaves themselves, 
and of providing the most energetic of them, who 
wish to escape, with pocket compasses and pistols, and 
reliable information of the safest routes. Such agents 
must be consummate men of the world, ‘wise as 
serpents’ though formidable as lions. An incautious 


132 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


man would soon be betrayed either by free blacks or 
sycophant slaves, and a man incapable of judging 
character by physiological indexes would waste both 
his time and his stock. Ten or twelve such Apostles 
of Freedom could easily, in one year, induce five 
thousand slaves, at least, to fly to the North; and of 
this number, if they were properly equipped, three- 
fourths, at the lowest calculation, would escape for- 
ever. Unarmed and without any money with which 
to purchase food, at least one-half of the fugitives 
would probably be captured by the bloodhounds of 
both breeds. 

“There are many methods of enabling fugitives to 
escape rapidly, and by a direct route, to the Free 
States, which these agents could employ; but they 
must be carefully kept a secret from the slaveholder 
and his friends.” 

To show my faith in this scheme, I offered my 
services free, for three months, if any anti-slavery 
man or society would provide me with the stock. 
T had no offer, 


VII. 


NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 


I remarvep at Weldon about a week—every day 
making new excursions into the surrounding country 
—every day holding long and confidential conversa- 
tions with the slaves. The preceding two chapters 
are accurate indications of my experience, and of the 
seutiments, aspirations and condition of the negro 
population. ; 

I walked, after the expiration of the week, about 
fifty miles southward, but without increasing my 
knowledge of the workings of “the peculiar institu- 
tion,” or seeing anything noteworthy in the manners 
or in the scenery of the country to repay me for my 
journey. So I jumped into the cars and rode to 
Wilmington. 

A LONG WALK. 


I staid there four or five days in the expectation 
of receiving a draft from Philadelphia which a debtor 
had promised to forward from that city to my address 
at Wilmington. He failed to fulfill his promise. Here 
was a pretty “fix” to be in—only a few dollars in 
my purse—among strangers—no prospect of getting 
money—no hope of being befriended, and no incli- 
nation to make friends with anybody. I had not 


enough to pay my fare to Savannah, where I intended 
188 





134 THE ROVING EDITOR 


to go; but a little trifle of that kind did not discour- 
age me. I resolved to walk to Charleston; and, as I 
did not know a foot of the way, to follow the rail- 
road track. 

I had no adequate conception of the nature of the 
tour I thus carelessly resolved on. If I had known, I 
should have shuddered to have thought of it. Those 
who follow in my footsteps will find out the reason 
when they come to the interminable and everlasting 
black swamps; see the height of the rough, long 
timber bridges or scaffoldings that are erected across 
them; the yawning widths between the cross-beams 
which must be leaped, and their accursedly uneven 
shape, which often makes it almost impossible—diffi- 
cult always—to secure a foothold; and when they 
discover, further, that a single false step, or a fit of 
nervous dizziness, endangers your life! It has taken 
me a couple of hours, several times, to travel one 
mile. If, in those days, there had been any manner 
of despair in my heart, I know that I should have 
abandoned this trip as hopeless. But as there was n’t, 
I trudged on—only losing my temper on one occa- 
sion, when I came to a horrible piece of work over a 
horrible swamp. My carpet bag incommoded me so 
much in walking, and once or twice, in leaping, so 
nearly caused me to lose my balance, that in a mild 
and genial temper, and with soft words of valedictory 
regret, I pitched it (with an unnecessarily extravagant 
expenditure of energy) at the flabby black bosom of 
the swamp, and then and there entertained the sinful 
desire that some person of profane habits were pres- 
ent, as I would willingly have given him half of my 
cash to have done a little swearing on my private 
account—a mode of relief which my habits and taste 


IN NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA, 135 


would not permit me to indulge in. I suppose this 
sentence shocks you very much; but judge me not 
until you have attempted the same dreary journey 
that I successfully accomplished! Probably you will 
swear—and not by proxy. 

I walked nearly or quite to Manchester, and then, 
changing my mind, took the branch to Columbys, 
the capital of South Carolina. I walked from there 
to Augusta—sixty miles. I kept no notes during this 
trip; but in a letter written shortly after my arrival 
in Augusta, I have preserved and recorded the anti- 
slavery results of it. 

I was ten days on the trip, I find; but whether ten 
days to Columbyis, or ten days from Wilmington to 
Augusta, I cannot now recall. I walked from Colum- 
bys to Augusta in two days: that I remember—for I 
slept one night in a barn, and the next in a flax 
house. 

Here is the sum total of my gleanings on the way. 


DISCONTENTMENT. 


I have spoken with hundreds of slaves on my 
journey. ‘Their testimony is uniform. They all 
pant for liberty, and have great reason to do so. 
Even a free-soil politician, I think, if he had heard 
the slaves speak to me, would have hesitated in again 
advocating the non-extension doctrine of his party, 
and been inclined to exchange it for the more Christ- 
ian and more manly doctrine of non-ewistence ! 

Wherever I have gone, I have found the bondmen 
discontented, and the slaveholders secretly dismayed 
at the signs of the times in the Northern States. 


136 THE ROVING EDITOR 


NORTH CAROLINA A FREE STATE. 


North Carolina, nolens volens, could be made a 
member of the Free States, if the abolitionists would 
send down a trusty band of liberators, amply pro- 
vided with pistols, compasses, and a little money for 
the fugitives. I believe that Virginia is equally at 
our mercy ; but I am ready to vouch for North Caro- 
lina. I questioned the slaves of that State on this 
subject almost exclusively. Christmas is a good sea- 
son for the distribution of such gifts; as, at that time, 
the Virginia and Northern Carolina slaves, who are 
hired South during the year, are nearer to the North 
by being at their owner’s residence. If the abolition- 
ists of the North could secure the codperation of the 
captains of vessels that sail to the Southern seaports, 
several hundreds of the slaves could easily be libe- 
rated every year in that way. 


RAILROAD HANDS. 


The Manchester and Wilmington Railroad owns 
the majority of the hands who work on that line. 
What do the Irish Democrats think of that plan ? 

Their allowance varies, as it depends on the over- 
seers. The average allowance is one peck of Indian 
meal, and two pounds and a half of bacon a week ; 
two suits of clothes, a blanket, and a hat, a year. 
No money. 

This road runs. through the most desolate looking 
country in the Union. Nothing but pine trees is 
seen on both sides of the track until you enter South 
Carolina, when a pleasant change is visible. 


IN NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA. hioys 


ALLOWANCE OF SLAVES. 


In the pine tree country the boys are engaged (I> 
mean away from the railroad) in manufacturing tur- 
pentine. The allowance of “the turpentine hands,” 
varies on different plantations and in different locali- 
ties. Slaves everywhere in the rural districts of Vir- 
ginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia, receive one peck 
of Indian meal per week. On the turpentine planta- 
tions some “ bosses” allow, in addition, one quart of 
molasses and five pounds of pork; others, one quart 
of molasses and three pounds of pork; others, again, 
two or two and a half pounds of pork, minus the mo- 
lasses. On many plantations the slaves are allowed 
one peck of meal a week without any other provisions. 
In such cases, I believe, they are generally permitted 
to keep poultry, whose eggs they dispose of on Sun- 
days or at night, and with the money buy pork or 
vegetables, ‘They bake the meal into cakes or dump- 
lings, or make mush with it. One peck of meal is as 
much as any one person can consume in a week. 
No slave ever complained to me of the quantity of 
his allowance. Several who received no pork, or only 
two pounds a fortnight, complained that “ We’s not 
’nuf fed, mass’r, for de work da takes out on us;” 
and others, again, said that the sameness of the diet 
was sickening. Everywhere, however, the slaves 
‘receive one peck of meal a week; nowhere, except 
in cities, and on some turpentine plantations, do they 
receive any money. I heard of one man—a hard 
taskmaster too, it was said—who gave his hands fifty 
dollars a year, if they each performed a certain extra 
amount of labor. This is the only instance of such 
conduct that I ever heard of. The only money ever 


1388 THE ROVING EDITOR 


given to rural slaves—plantation hands never have 
money—is at Christmas, when some owners give 
their hands ten or fifteen dollars. The majority, 
however, do not give one cent. 


“‘ VERY COMFORT IN HEALTH.” * 


The railroad hands sleep in miserable shanties 
along the line. Their bed is an inclined pine board 
—nothing better, softer, or warmer, as I can testify 
from my personal experience. Their covering is a 
blanket. The fireplaces in these cabins are often so_ 
clumsily constructed that all the heat ascends the 
chimney, instead of diffusing itself throughout the 
miserable hut, and warming its still more miserable 
tenants. In such cases, the temperature of the cabin, 
at this season of the year (November), is bitterly cold 
and uncomfortable. I frequently awoke, at all hours, 
shivering with cold, and found shivering slaves hud- 
dled up near the fire. Of course, as the negroes are 
not released from their work until sunset, and as, 
after coming to their cabins, they have to cook their 
ash-cakes, or mush, or dumplings, these huts are by 
no means remarkable for their cleanly appearance. 
Poor fellows! in that God-forsaken section of the 
earth they seldom see a woman from Christmas to 
Christmas. If they are married men, they are tan- 
talized by the thought that their wives are perform- 
ing for rich women of another race those services that 
would brighten their own gloomy life-pathway. 
They may, perhaps—who knows ?—have still sadder 
reflections. 

* “They are happy. They have a kind and generous master ; every 


comfort in health; good nursing when ill; their church and Bible, 
and their Saviour, who is also ours.".—ALoNE: by Marion Harland. 


IN NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 139 


WHITE AND NEGRO HOSPITALITY. 


Travelling afoot, and looking rather seedy, I did 
not see any of that celebrated hospitality for which 
the Southerners are perpetually praising themselves. 
They are very hospitable to strangers who come to 
them well introduced—who don’t need hospitality, in 
fact; but they are very much the reverse when a 
stranger presents himself under other and unfavor- 
able circumstances. The richer class of planters are 
especially inhospitable. The negroes are the hospi- 
table class of the South. 

One evening I travelled very late ; the night was 
dark, too, and a storm was coming on. It was nearly 
ten o’clock when I went up to the house of a planter 
and asked to be permitted to stay there all night. I 
had lost my way, and did not know where I was. 
My request was sullenly rejected. I asked no favor, 
for | was careful always to incur no debt to the 
slaveholder, excepting the debt of unrelenting hostil- 
ity.* I asked simply fora lodging. There was no 
possibility, I found, of moving him, although there 
were ample accommodations in his house. He di- 
rected me to the railroad track again, and said that if 
I walked about half a mile southward, I would come 
to a house, where, perhaps, I would be accommodated 
for the night. I did not stir until I was warmed. 
When I went out it was perfectly dark. I groped 
down to the railroad track, and found it was impos- 


* I had so often seen anti-slavery travellers accused of abusing 
hospitality, that, when I went South, I resolved to partake of none. 
I never even took a cigar from a slaveholder without seizing the 
earliest opportunity of returning it, or giving him its equivalent in 
some form. 


140 THE ROVING EDITOR 


sible to see my way. I went back—offered to sleep 
on the floor—to sit up all night—to pay for any kind 
of nocturnal shelter. The storm was ,beginning. 
No! He would not listen to me. I saw a negro 
hut at a distance in the woods, and adjoining the 
railroad track. I went up to it. It was hardly 
larger than an ordinary pig-sty. I went in and told the 
boys that I intended to stay there all night. One of 
them was evidently afraid, and urged me to go to his 
master. I told him that his master was a brute, and 
I would rather stay here. This remark brought me 
into favor. They offered me the warmest corner, and 
gave me a blanket to cover me. I laid down aiid 
pretended to sleep. By and by the door opened, and 
a mulatto woman entered, and after some talk about 





masters—she laid down at the furthest end of the 
hut and went to sleep. There were broad shelves 
round the cabin, on which, and on the floor, the 
negroes slept. 

How many do you suppose slept 3 in that miserable 
hut ¢ +: 

Five negroes, the mulatto woman and myself. 
“Kivery comfort in health!” 


CHRISTIAN MORALITY AND SLAVERY. 


From the talk of the boys (I wrote) you would not 
have imagined that any woman was present. How 
is it that clergymen forget the fact that Slavery can- 
not exist without creating what they anathematize as 
crime? Adultery, fornication, and still viler acts are 
the necessary consequences of the domestic institu- 
tion of the South. 

I belong to the Ruling Race: dare a slave resist 


IN NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 141 


my criminal advances? By a false statement before 
a magistrate, or by a blow, I can punish her if she 
does. Her word is not taken in any court of justice, 
and she does not dare to resent my blow. 

Iam arich man: the slave is without a cent. Is 
it likely—thus bribed—that she will refuse my 
request, however low, or however guilty ? 

Again, I am a white man, and I know that mu- 
latto women almost always refuse to cohabit with the 
blacks; are often averse to a sexual connection with 
persons of their own shade; but are gratified by the 
cfiminal advances of Saxons, whose intimacy, they 
hope, may make them the mothers of children 
almost white—which is the quadroon girl’s ambi- 
tion: is it likely, then, that a young man will resist 
temptation, when it comes in the form of a beautiful 
slave maiden, who has perhaps—as is often the 
case—a fairer complexion than his own, and an ex- 
quisitely handsome figure # 

It is neither likely, nor so/ It is a crime against 
morality to be silent on such subjects. Slavery, not 
Popery, is the foul Mother of Harlots. 


A HOSPITABLE SWAMP. 


Next morning I arose at an early hour—before the 
boss was up—and resumed my peregrinations. What, 
think you, did I discover? A few rods distant from 
the master’s house, in the direction that he had 
advised me to take in the dark night, when he told 
me “to walk half a mile southward,” lay a wide 
soft marsh, far beneath the railroad track, to cross 
which, even in daylight, required the closest atten- 
tion, and steadiness of nerve. If I had attempted to 
cross it in the night-time I should unquestionably 


ta 


142 THE ROVING EDITOR 


have fallen, and been lost in the black slushy depths 
of the marsh. 
Columbus is a beautiful little city ; but as the let- 


ter in which I described it, and my journey to 


Augusta, was unfortunately lost, and as I am too 
faithful a chronicler to rely on my memory alone for 
facts, I will here close my chapter on slavery in 
North and South Carolina, and devote the remainder 
of myspace to the slaves and the States of Georgia 
and Alabama. 


Postsoript.—Malden, Massachusetts, Dec. 30.—In my com- 
munications to my friends, written on this tour, I strictly con- 
fined my observations to the slave population—the colored 
South. The evidences that I saw daily of the injurious effects 
of slavery on the soil, trade, customs, social condition and morals 
of the whites I reserved for editorial use; to advance, from 
time to time, to such ‘enlightened fellow-citizens” as are 
incapable of seeing or appreciating the self-evident truth that 
every crime is necessarily a curse also; that it is impossible to 
be a robber, either as an individual or as a race, and perma- 
nently to prosper even in material interests. I saw, on this trip, 
and heard enough, to enable- me to testify to the truth of the 
paragraph subjoined, by a gentleman whose writings have done 
much, I learn, to advance the knowledge of that sublime—aye, 
and terrible—truth, which the South has yet to learn or die— 
that you cannot fasten a chain on the foot of a slave without 
putting the other end of it around your own neck. 

Mr. Olmsted, speaking of the turpentine plantation, says: 

‘* SLAVES AND OTHER PEOPLE IN THE TURPENTINE ForEstTs.— 
The negroes employed in this branch of industry, seemed to me 
to be unusually intelligent and cheerful. Decidedly they are 
superior in every moral and intellectual respect to the great mass 
of the white people inhabiting the turpentine forest. Among 
the latter there is a large number, I should think a majority, 
of entirely uneducated, poverty-stricken vagabonds. I mean 
by vagabonds, simply, people without habitual, definite occu- 
pation or reliable means of livelihood. They are poor, hay- 
ing almost no property but their own bodies; and the use of 
these, that is, their labor, they are not accustomed to hire out 
statedly and regularly, so as to obtain capital by wages, but 
only occasionally by the day or job, when driven to it by neces- 
sity. A family of these people will commonly hire, or ‘squat’ 
and build, a little log cabin, so made that it is only a shelter from 


IN NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 143 


rain, the sides not being chinked, and having no more furniture 
or pretension to comfort than is commonly provided a criminal 
in the cell of a prison. They will cultivate a little corn, and 
possibly a few roods of potatoes, cow-peas and coleworts. They 
will own a few swine, that find their living in the forest; and . 
pretty certainly, also, a rifle and dogs; and the men, ostensibly, 
occupy most of their time in hunting. A gentleman of Fay- 
etteville told me that he had, several times appraised, under 
oath, the whole household property of families of this class at 
less than $20. If they have need of money to purchase eloth- 
ing, etc., they obtain it by selling their game or meal. If they 
have none of this to spare, or an insufficiency, they will work 
for a neighboring farmer for a few days, and they usually get 
for their labor fifty cents a day, jinding themselves. The farm- 
ers say that they do not like to employ them, because they 
cannot be relied upon to finish what they undertake, or to 
work according to directions; and because, being white men, 
they cannot ‘drive’ them. That is to say, their labor is even 
more inefficient and unmanageable than that of slaves. That I 
have not formed an exaggerated estimate of the proportion of 
such a class, will appear to the reader more probable from the 
testimony of a pious colporteur, given before a public meeting 
in Charleston, in February, 1855. I quote from a Charleston 
paper’s report. The colporteur had been stationed at 
county, N. O.:—‘ The larger portion of the inhabitants seemed to 
be totally given up to a species of mental hallucination, which 
carried them captive at its will. They nearly all believed impli- 
citly in witchcraft, and attributed everything that happened, 
good or bad, to the agency of persons whom they supposed 
possessed of evil spirits.’ The majority of what I have termed 
turpentine-farmers—meaning the small proprietors of the long- 
leafed pine forest land, are people but a grade superior, in char- 
acter or condition, to these vagabonds. They have habitations 
more like houses—log-cabins. commonly, sometimes chinked, 
oftener not—without windows of glass, but with a few pieces 
of substantial old-fashioned heir-loom furniture; a vegetable 
garden, in which, however, you will find no vegetable but what 
they call ‘collards’ (colewort) for ‘greens’; fewer dogs; more 
swine, and larger clearings for maize, but no better crops than 
the poorer class. Their property is, nevertheless, often of con- 
siderable money value, consisting mainly of negroes, who, asso- 
ciating intimately with their masters, are of superior intelli- 
gence to the slaves of the wealthier classes. The larger pro- 
prietors, who are also often cotton planters, cultivating the 
richer low lands, are, sometimes, gentlemen of good estate— 
intelligent, cultivated and hospitable. The number of these, 
however, is extremely small.” 





VoL Gs 


A PLAGUE STRICKEN CITY. 


I wett remember my first entrance into the city 
of Augusta. The yellow fever was raging there, as 
well’ as in the. cities of Charleston and Savannah. 
Everybody was out of town! 

The nearer I approached Augusta, the more fre- 
quently was I asked, as I stopped on the way to talk 
to the people, or entesedl their houses to get water or 
food, where I was bound. for and how the yellow 
iver was ¢ 

When I answered that I was bound for Augusta, a 
stare of surprise, a reproof, or ejaculation of astonish- 
nent, was very sure to follow. Two gentlemen were 
creuiane enough to tell me that I looked as if I had 
caught the yellow fever already. I was not surprised 
at their startling statement when I came to view my 
image in a mirror. I was indeed quite ill from un- 
accustomed fatigues, and the incessant enjoyment of 
“every comfort in health,” which I had shared during 
my trip with the Carolina slaves. 

“God help me!” I said; “a few more ‘comforts’— 
say the comforts of {ch nes oene I would soon be a 
tenant of that blessed habitation, to which worthy 
members of the African race, like the good old Uncle 
Edward, are accustomed to repair to immediately 


after their decease on earth.” 
144 







































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































“ There, on a coffin, sat a wrinkled old negro, holding a broken piece of mirror close to his nose, 
and scraping his furrowed face, might and main, with a very dall razor which he held in his right 
hand. Seepagel47, = 4 ; 





IN GEORGIA. 145 


A CRABBED OLD MAN. 


I well remember, too, when within ten miles of 
the plague-stricken city, that I astonished every one 
whom I met, in walking along the road, by a long 
and hearty roar of laughter, in which, without inter- 
ruption, I continued to indulge for nearly an hour. 

I came up to a gate. A crabbed looking old man 
was working inside of it in a sort of kitchen garden. 
LTasked him if I might come in and get a drink of 
water at the well. 

“Where y’ goin’ to?” he snapped. 

« Augusta.” 

“Must be a d—d fool,” he jerked out, looking at 
me savagely. ‘“ Don’t ye know the yaller fever ’s 
there?” 

‘Yes, old man, I do.” 

‘You ‘ll die ev you-go-thar.” 

*‘T won’t live to be uncivil then,” I said. 

“ Hum!” he grunted. 

*¢ What o’clock is it?” 

“Bout twelve.” 

“Can’t you sell me something to eat, or get me a 
dinner ?” 

“No,” he snapped, talking so rapidly that his 
words often ran together; ‘old-woman’s-busy ; we- 
do n’t-get dinners for Tom-Dick-en-Harry. Need n’t 
ask us.” 

“Curse your insolence!” I said: “I asked you a 
civil question. I want no favors. Ill pay you for 
all I get. May I have a drink?” 

“Guess-you-kin-get it,” he said, looking as if he 
meant to fight; but, seeing that I was angry in ear- 
nest, he merely added—“ there ’s-the-well.” 

7 


146 THE ROVING EDITOR 


I went in and was going straight to it. 

“ Hello! good-God-sror!” he shouted in a trem- 
bling, earnest tone; “ yev-got the yaller-fever—tlet- 
me-get from between you-en-the-wind !” 

Iroared. But the little Vitriol Vial was evidently 
in earnest, for he ran away as if the very devil was 
after him. 

His wife—a quiet, dignified personage—in spite of 
his frequent, shrieked warnings to her, came kindly 
forward and gave me a glass. 


AUGUSTA. 


Opposite Augusta, on the other side of the Savan- 
nah River, is the town of Hamburg, in South Caro- 
lina. Although the pestilence had raged in Augusta 
with terrible fatality for more than a month, no case 
of yellow fever had as yet occurred in the town of 
Hamburg. The wind, fortunately for the town, had 
blown in the opposite direction ever since the plague 
broke out. They expected to be stricken as soon as 
the wind should veer about. Yet they escaped; no 
single case occurred there; for the wind was friendly 
to them to the end. | 

I walked down to the river side. It was sad to see 
Augusta—apparently deserted—not a human being 
anywhere visible! When the people found that I 
intended to cross, they earnestly remonstrated with 
me. But I went up to the bridge—and stepped on 
it. It is rather a solemn thing to do at such a time; 
it requires either courage or a blind faith in Fate. I 
believed in destiny ; and therefore never hesitated to 
run any risk of any kind anywhere. So I went 
over. 

I met no one. When I landed on the opposite side, 


IN GEORGIA. Nes 


the first sight that I saw, far away up the street, was 
a black hearse standing at a door. One or two 
negroes were working on the bank of the river. I 
walked along the street that runs parallel with it. 
Everything was as still as a calm midnight at sea; 
no living creature was astir—neither men, women, 
children, horses, nor dogs! I turned up another 
street ; and, in doing so, suddenly caught a glimpse 
of a lady, dressed in deepest mourning, as she quickly 
disappeared into a doorway, which was immediately 
closed behind her. I continued to walk through the 
deserted streets: for more than an hour I travelled 
about the city in every direction. The houses were 
all closed. I saw no sign of life, excepting, in all, 
four or five negroes, in different places, and a gentle- 
man in the principal street, walking very rapidly 
and clad in mourning. Perhaps the utter desolation 
of Augusta may best be inferred from the fact, that 
this city of at least twenty thousand inhabitants, 
was estimated, when I entered it, to contain only 
from one hundred and fifty to two hundred whites, 
who were dying at the rate of six, eight, and ten 
a day! | 

I bent my steps to the burying-ground. I had 
become very sombre by the desolation everywhere 
so apparent; but when I entered the little dead- 
house at one corner of the cemetery, I could not re- 
frain from a hearty laugh. 


THE NEGRO OF THE CEMETERY. 

It was the coolest thing Iever saw! ‘There, on a 
coffin, sat a wrinkled old negro, holding a broken 
piece of mirror close to his nose, and scraping his 
furrowed face, might and main, with a very dull 


148 THE ROVING EDITOR 


razor which he held in his right hand. The contrast 
between his sombre seat and its pallid tenant, his 
extraordinary contortions of countenance, and his 
employment, was so great (and such a ludicrous pic- 
ture of life withal), that I startled him by a sudden 
laugh and complimentary salutation. 

He told me that the coachman, who had been em- 
ployed to drive the dead to the burying-ground, was 
himself a corpse, and that every one who had taken 
the position had fallen a speedy victim to the terrible 
pestilence. But still, he thought, they would get an- 
other “right away,” for the pay was high, and there 
were fools enough to jump at the chance of escaping. 

“ You may have noticed,” I wrote at this time to a 
Northern friend, “ the extraordinarily small number 
of colored people who die from yellow fever, as com- 
pared with the voluminous array of the white vic- 
tims of the pestilence. Ludicrous and curious 
enough are the reasons advanced to account for this 
difference. 

‘No care on their minds,” said some. 

“ Came from a hot climate !” said another. 

“Two centuries ago ?” I asked, ironically. 

This philosophical old negro gave me the true 
reason. The whites are effeminate and enfeebled by 
idleness, debauchery, and drunkenness; while the 
blacks are industrious, temperate, and in every way 
as virtuous as their condition admits of. 


THE CEMETERY. 
I entered the cemetery. It is level and rather 
small, but finely shaded. I walked to one corner of 


it. 
Three little graves, little more than a span long, 


IN GEORGIA. 149 


side by side, first brought the reluctant tears to my 
eyes. I counted over fifty new-made graves in that 
melancholy corner alone, and could have stepped 
from one to another, and stood on each, without ever 
once touching the undug sod! Never before did I 
stand so near the Unseen Land—never since have I 
felt any fear or any awe of death. Everything around 
me was dead or dying. I felt as if I now were out 
of harmony with nature—the only living thing in an 
expiring earth. The long bent grass was yellow; 
the roses and the flowers were dying ; the sere autumn 
leaves were dropping from the trees; and the sick, 
languid wind seemed to be spending its feeble breath 
in sighing a sad chant for the last of life! The 
leaves, the grass, and the wind united in this dying 
dirge, whose solemn notes were these recent clusters 
of untimely graves. 

I sat down and listened, and wished for death. It 
must, indeed, I felt, be a terrible fate—to be the last 
man alive! i 

The sighing of the wind, and the sad sights around 
me, soon seemed to throw me in a trance—from 
which I awoke to fear death and the grave no more 
on earth. I seemed to have been dead and in the 
spirit land, and reluctantly returned to earth-life 
again. 

When I opened my eyes, the tears started up un- 
bidden and resistless. It was a simple thing that 
ealled them up. It had nothing poetical, or solemn 
or sacred about it. It was only a shingle! I had 
not particularly noticed it before, although now I 
saw that there was one of them on every new grave. 
I did not touch it; for it was on sacred soil. I drew 
near, and saw on it, in pencil marks, initials and a 


150 THE ROVING EDITOR 


date. That was all. I put my hand over my face 
and wept like a girl. They were hastily written, 
those simple records; but how ominous and how 
graphic! Could any eloquence have so faithfully 
portrayed the condition of a plague-stricken city ! 
Shingles for tombstones—no time for marble ; for the 
chisel, a pencil—hastily used: and away—away— 
away—for dear, dear life! Poor cowardly relatives, 
make haste—make haste, or the shingle may yet 
mark where your timid corpses lie! Away! away! 
away ! 

With tears streaming down my face—no sound, 
save the sighing of the winds, and the grass and the 
leaves—no grasshopper, even, and no bird, to tell me 
that there was life still astir—I slowly, slowly, moved 
over to the opposite corner of the burying-ground. 

Sixty—seventy—eighty—eighty-one—two ! 

An open grave! 

I stopped my enumeration, and went over to it. I 
was sick and tired, and could count the red graves 
no longer. 

I expected to see a coffin at the bottom of the 
erave; but it was empty. I looked again, and sud 
denly uttered an exclamation of delight. 

I seized the shovel, and jumped down into the 
open grave. 

I know that the reader will laugh at me—I know 
that some of you will think that I was mad; but I 
never before experienced a keener thrill of pleasure, 
never felt so sudden a love for any living thing, as 
when I saw, at the bottom of the open grave, and 
jumped into it to rescue—a mouse ! 

Yes, it was a poor little mouse, that, by some mis- 
chance, had fallen into the open grave. I don’t feel 





IN GEORGIA. 151 


ashamed to confess that I loved it! Insignificant 
and ignoble seeming as it was, I hailed it a messen- 
ger from a lwing world, with which, in my sad re- 
flections, and amid these sad scenes, I had begun to 
believe that I had no further business. For I was 
sick in body—predisposed, as people told me, to the 
plague—and soon expected to lie there, in the ceme- 
tery, without even a shingle for a tombstone. So I 
thanked God, and blessed the little captive mouse, as 
I rescued and set it at liberty again! 


lin 
Ay 
GEORGIA NOTES. 


As I had no hope now of receiving a remittance 
from the North, I doffed my coat, and went to work 
at a trade. 

I remained in Augusta nearly two months. 

From letters written there during that time, I sub- 
join such selections as are appropriate to my purpose. 


A GHOST; OR THE HAUNTED CABIN. 


“Haunted!” said I; “do people here really be- 
lieve in ghosts?” 

“Yes,” said the landlord, “there are thousands, 
both in this State and South Carolina, who believe in 
them as firmly as they believe in anything. The old 
time people all believe in them.” 

“ And this cabin was haunted, you say ?” 

The cabin referred to stood on a lonely field west- 
ward of Charleston. 

“Tt got that reputation for years,” resumed my 
companion. ‘ Nobody would go near it, night nor 
day. On dark nights, people who rode along the 
highway, near the cabin, often reported that they had 
seen it. Hundredssawit. Ibelieved it myself. Pd 
as lief have gone into a rattlesnake’s nest, as into that 
there field after dark.” 


152 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 153 


“Ts it still haunted?’ I asked. 

“No,” said the landlord. “Not now. He was 
found out.” 

“Who ?” 

“The ghost!” 

“The deuce! How?” 

“Why, you see, there was a sort of drunken fellow 
lived not far off; and when he’s on a spree he 
does n’t care a fig for anything. He’s a regular dare- 
devil. Well, one night he determined to go a ghost- 
hunting. He had a horse that was a very singular 
beast; it would stand still if he fell off, or go home 
of itself, if he was too drunk to guide it—which was 
often the case. Well, he rides up to the field, and 
sure enough there was the ghost.” 

What was it like?” I asked. 

*‘ He said it was like a body as white as a corpse, 
but without either head, arms or legs.” 

“Was he not frightened ?” 

“He said he would have been frightened to 
death,” resumed my landlord, “if he had not been 
so drunk that he would as lief have met the devil as 
not. Well, his horse reared. Hespurred it. It was 
no use. It wouldn’t go one step further, although 
the ghost stood not more ’n a rod from his head.” 

“What did he do then?” 

“Oh! he brought a lick at the ghost with his 
whip. The lash rested on it. Now, then, said he, I 
was sure it was something more natr’al than it got 
the credit for; bekase, you see, if it had been a ghost 
the lash would have gone through it.” 

“So it would,” said one of the boarders, “so it 
would: that’s accordin’ to natur’.” 


The landlord resumed. 
[* 


154 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“ As soon as the whip touched the ghost, it went 
backwards to the door of the cabin. He spurred his 
horse. It was no use agin. It would n’t go a step. 
So he got off and tied her to a post, and then rushed 
at the ghost, on foot, whipin hand. As he came at it, 
it kept agoin’ back and back, till at last it got inside 
the cabin, and was beginnin’ to shut the door, when he 
gave another lick at it, and then rushed forward and 
seized a hold of it!” 

One of the boarders drew a long breath. 

“What was it?” asked another, open-mouthed and 
anxious. | 

“What do you think?” asked the landlord, he-he- 
he-ing heartily; “‘ what d’ ye think?” 

Nobody could think. So the landlord relapsed 
again. When he had recovered so far as to speak: 

“Ha! ha! ha!” he cried. ‘ Oh-a Lord!—ha! ha! 
ha!-a-a! Do you give it up?” 

We gave it up. 

“He! he!e-e-e!” he began, “ he-e-e-e! It was 
a strong buck nigger, who had run away from his 
boss in Georgia four years before. He had lived 
there ever since. He was as black as coal, and 
every night used to walk about in his shirt-tail, and 
frighten the folks round about out of their five 
senses !” 

“ But how did he live?’ I asked. 

“Oh!” said the landlord, “he stole at night. 
—— made him strike up a light in the cabin, and 
found it half full of provisions.” 


SOUTHERN AUDACITY OF ASSERTION. 


One of the most remarkable characteristics of con- 
versation at the South, is the audacity with which 


IN GEORGIA. 155 


the most flagrant falsehoods are advanced as unde- 
niable truths, when the subject of negro slavery is 
under discussion. That the negroes are perfectly 
satisfied with slavery; that the blacks of the North 
are the most miserable of human beings; that all 
slaves are happy, and all free negroes wretched: 
these ridiculously false assertions are far more ear- 
nestly believed by “the public” of the South, than 
the “self-evident truths” of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence are believed by the wildest, the most 
fanatical of European Democrats. From Wisconsin 
to Georgia, I have frequently found men who did not 
fear to laugh at the doctrines of Jefferson as rhet- 
orical absurdities; but, in the Seaboard Slave States, 
I have yet to meet the first Southerner who believes 
that the condition of the Northern negroes is superior 
to the condition of the Southern slaves. 

In a recent conversation in this city, I emphati- 
cally denied—first, that the slaves are contented with 
bondage; and, secondly, that their condition was 
enviable as compared with that of their Northern 
brethren. My denial was received with a simulta- 
neous shout of derision and laughter by every person 
in the room. 

“What privileges have they (the free negroes) at 
the North that the slaves have not here ?” 

I did not deem it expedient to utter a reply 
that would have silenced them, but probably tarred 
and feathered me also; but I ventured to sug- 
gest : 

“Well, there’s the privilege of acquiring know- 
ledge, for example.” 

“T guess,” said one, “there’s very few mggers in 
this State that can’t read !” 


156 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“T don’t believe one-tenth of them can’t read,” 
said another. 

Now, as there is nothing more certain than that 
not one slave in five hundred can read, these asser- 
tions (and they are but types of a numerous tribe), 
will enable you to see how it is that Northern men, 
who travel South, and accept such statements without 
personal experience or investigation, so frequently 
return home convinced that the slaveholders are a 
much misrepresented class and the negroes a highly 
privileged people. 

“They are not contented; I know it from them- 
selves,” I added, rather incautionsly. 

“Oh h—ll!” said one sensual-eyed fellow; “I 
know better than that. I’ve seen niggers that ran 
away from here to the North at New York, and they 
offered to work for me all their lives if I would only 
pay their passage back again.” 

The reader may guess without difficulty what I 
thought of this statement. In the land of pistols, 
bowies, and tar and feathers, however, an abolitionist, 
if he desires to accomplish anything, must be exceed- 
ingly prudent in his words. I merely rejoined: 

“T should very much like to see one negro who 
would rather be a slave than free.” 


THE NEGRO WHO WOULD N’T BE FREE! 


“Why, there,” said the Southron, pointing to a 
negro who had just entered the room, “there’s a 
nigger there that you could n’t hire to be free.” 

He was asked, and replied that he would not be 
free. 

“ Now, thar /” Triumphantly. 

I said nothing and the conversation dropped. Ina 


IN GEORGIA. 157 


few days after it, the negro came to me and we had 
a long conversation. 

LHe asked me whether, on returning to New York, 
I would take him along with me as a servant. Le 
offered to repay whatever expenses I might incur, both 
on my own account and his fare, as soon as he could 
obtain employment in the Free States. 

“Do you know 4 single person of color,” I asked, 
“who does not want to be a freeman?” 

** No, sir; not one,” was his decisive answer. 

“When they ask you whether you want to be free, 
you always say no, I suppose ?”’ 

“Yes,” said the slave, with a smile of contempt, 
“1 says so to them—we all does—but it’s not so.” 

“Ts it not amazing to see them believe such stuff?” 
I remarked. 

“Tt is dat, mass’r,” replied the slave whom “ you 
could n’t hire to be free,” but who offered to hire me 
—to be free! 

Not one man—not even one Northerner—in ten 
who speaks with the slaves on the subject of bondage 
ascertains their sincere opinions. They never will 
learn what they are until they address the slaves, not 
as bondmen but as brothers. This is the secret of 
my universal success with the slaves. I have been 
their favorite and confidant wherever I have gone, 
because I never once adopted the “shiftless ” policy 
of addressing them as if conscious of being a scion of 
a nobler race. 


THE FOREIGN POPULATION OF THE SOUTH. 


I am sorry to say that the Irish population, with 
very few exceptions, are the devoted supporters of 


158 THE ROVING EDITOR 


Southern slavery. They have acquired the reputa- 
tion, both among the Southerners and Africans, of 
being the most merciless of negro task-masters. HEng- 
lishmen, Scotchmen and Germans, with very few ex- 
ceptions, are either secret abolitionists or silent neu- 
trals. An Englishman is treated with far more and 
sincerer respect by the slaves than any American. 
They have heard of Jamaica; they have sighed for 
Canada. J have seen the eyes of the bondmen im the 
Carolinas sparkle as they talked of the probabilities 
of a war with the “ old British.” A war with Eng- 
land now, would, in all probability, extinguish South- 
ern slavery forever. 


A SOUTHERN REQUIEM.’ 


It is sad to hear a slaveholder, of the less educated 
class, speak in eulogy of a negro who has gone to the 
world where the weary are at rest. It is sickening 
to think, as he recounts their virtues, that he never 
could have regarded them as wmmortal souls ; that 
their value in his eyes consisted solely of their animal 
or mechanical excellences; that he measured a hu- 
man servant by the self-same standard with which 
he gauged his horses and his cattle. 

One day, after listening to a conversation of this 
character—not in Georgia, however, but another 
Slave State—I endeavored to put a slaveholder’s 
post-mortem praises into rhyme—to write a requiem 
for a valued or valuadle slave. Here it is: 


es 


Haste! bury her under the meadow’s green lea, 
My faithful old black woman Sue; 

There never was negro more wseful than she, 
There never was servant more true ; 


IN GEORGIA. 


Ah! never again will a slaveholder own 
A darkey so honest as she who has gone. 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 


Er. 


They say that I worked her both early and late, 
That my discipline shortened her days; 
Twas God and not I who predestined her fate— 
To Him be the curses—or praise! 
J thanked him that one so unworthy should own 
A darkey so robust as she who has gone. 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 


lil. 


My enemies say that my coffers are stained 
With the price of the fruits of her womb; 
Yet, what if I sold them? she never complained, 
From her cradle-bed down to her tomb. 
Ah! never again will a slaveholder own 
A darkey so pious as she who has gone. 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 


IV. 


They say that she bore me a child whom I sold— 
I doubt, but I do not deny ; 
Yet e’en if I bartered its body for gold, 
Tis God who’s to blame and not I, 
For He in His wrath said that Saxons should own 
The offspring of Canaan—like her who has gone. 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her home in the skies! 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her home in the skies. 


159 


160 THE ROVING EDITOR 


v. 


Haste! bury her under the meadow’s green lea, 
My faithful old black woman Sue; 
Ill pray to the Lord for another like she, 
As dutiful, fruitful, and true! 
Yet I fear me that never again shall I own 
A darkey so “likely” as her who has gone! 
Gone! gone! gone 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 
Gone! gone! gone! 
Gone to her rest in the skies! 


X, 


SELF-EDUCATED SLAVES. 


Tue population of Augusta, as I have already 
said, was estimated at twenty thousand. Yet it 
supports only two daily papers, both of which have 
but a limited circulation. The reason why the South 
supports so few journals in comparison to the North 
and the Northwest, is that there the laboring class are 
prohibited by law from learning to read. The labor- 
ers are Africans. Yet, in spite of the law, great 
numbers of the czty slaves can read fluently and well, | 
and many of them have even acquired a rudimental 
knowledge of arithmetic. But—blazen it to the 
shame, and to shame the South—the knowledge thus 
acquired has been stolen or snatched from spare 
seconds of leisure, im spite of their owners’ wishes 
and watchfulness. 

“You can read—can you not?’ I asked of an 
intelligent slave, whose acquaintance I made in 
Augusta. 

*¢ Yes, sir,” said he. 

“Write, too?” . 

2es, sir.” 

‘Let me see you write a pass.” 

He wrote one in a legible hand. The words were 


correctly spelled. 
161 


162 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“How did you learn to write?” I asked. “Did 
the boss allow you to learn ?” 

“No, sev,” returned the slave. ‘There’s no bosses 
would ‘low their niggers to read if they could help 
themselves. My missus got hold of my spellin’ 
books thrice and burned them.” 

“ You taught yourself?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“How did you learn the alphabet ?” 

“Well, sir,” he replied, “ out in county, near 
where the boss’s plantation is, there ’s a schoolhouse. 
The well is close by, and when I used to go for water 
I got the boys to teach me a letter at a time. Iused 
to give them nuts and things to teach me. Then, 
after that, when I come to ’Gusta, ” (he 
named a young white mechanic), “him that came 
from New Jersey, ga’en me a lesson in writing once 
in a while, and I learned that-a-way.” 

“You married?’ I asked. 

“Yes, sir; I’s got a wife and three children.” 

‘“‘ Where is she ?” I rejoined. 

“ Out in county.” 

“Is she a slave ?” 

“Oh yes, sir; she lives with her boss out there.” 

‘“¢ How often do you see her?” 

“Bout once every two or three months.” 

Great domestic institution that! 

I have met several slaves in the course of my 
journeyings who had taught themselves to read 
and write, with as little instruction as the negro 
mentioned in the preceding conversation. I never 
yet met a slave who was not anxious to acquire the 
forbidden knowledge. 














IN GEORGIA. 163 


HELPLESSNESS AT TABLE. 


Helplessness is as fully developed at Southern 
public tables as “shiftlessness” is in the Southern 
households, according to the statement of Miss 
Ophelia. ‘ Every one for himself, heaven for us all, 
and slops for the hindermost,” is the principle that 
underlies the system of dining at many of the 
Northern, and at every Western hotel. At the 
South, on the contrary, it is easy to see that an oppo- 
site theory prevails: “‘ Nobody for anybody, and the 
nigger for us all!” is evidently their fundamental 
maxim. I have seen a debilitated Southerner call a 
negro from the opposite side of the table, to hand 
him a dish that he could easily have reached without 
unbending his elbow! 


THE CHAMBERMAID’S OPINION. 


* Would you like to be free?” I inquired of a 
colored girl at the hotel. 

‘Yes, sir, l would indeed,” she said briskly ; “and 
I would like to know who would n’t.” 

“ How much do you get?” 

“T don’t get a cent” (she was hired out); “ my 
mistress takes every red.” 

* Do n’t the landlord allow you something ?” 

ora. Gir,” 

* Do you never have money, then?” 

“ Oh yes, sometimes.” 

*¢ Where do you get it?” 

“Gentlemen here sometimes gives me a dollar,” 
she said, laughing and looking boldly at me. 

“Do you know any persons of color who would 
rather be slaves than free ?” 


164 THE ROVING EDITOR © 


“ No, sir, I do n’t know any one.” 

“Tf the colored people were free,” I asked, “do 
you think they would work as hard as they do now? 
I mean the colored people of the city ?” 

“TJ ouess most of them would work harder,” she 
replied; “’cause, you see, they could live better, 
and dress and buy things with the money they has to 
give to the white folks now. I know I would work 
hard, and make lots of money if I was free. There’s 
some that would n’t work so hard though; they 
would buy liquor and loaf about—the same as the 
whate folks !” 


WHY SLAVES STEAL. 


I have very often heard the negroes spoken of 
harshly in consequence of their thievish habits. In 
walking in the vicinity of Augusta one day, I came 
up to a negro, who was carrying a bag of provisions 
from town to his master’s plantation. We talked 
about the patriarchal institution. He said that plan- 
tation slaves in this vicinity generally received one 
peck of meal, and from one to two and a half pounds 
of pork a week. He knew one planter who gave a 
very “short” allowance of meat. 

“So, you see, mass’r, his slaves steal whatever 
dey kin lay their hands on. He’s cons’ant whippin’ 
"em; but dey doesn’t stop it. My boss gives us two 
pounds and a half of pork a week, and we never 
takes anyt'ing. We’s above it,” he added proudly. 

Pity that the slaveholders had not as high a spirit. 
Pity that they should condescend to steal the negro’s 
wages: pity that they cannot say of such disreput- 
able theft— We’s above ct !” 

* Are you a married man ?” 


IN GEORGIA. 165 


“. Vesy sire? 

“ Were you married by a minister ?” 

“No, sir; Z was married by de blanket.” 

“ How ’s that ?” 

“Wall, mass’r,” he said, “we come togeders into 
de same cabin, an’ she brings her blanket and lays 
it down beside mine, and we gets married dat-a- 
way !” 

“Do ministers never marry you?” 

“Yes, mass’r, sometimes; but not of’en. Mass’, 
has you got a chaw of *bacca?” 

I never yet gave a chaw of *bacca without accom- 
panying it with a revolutionary truth. John Bunyan, 
I remember, gave a text with Acs alms. 


THE FUGITIVE SLAVE ACT. 


The South has proclaimed the right of any North- 
ern State to pass a Personal Liberty Law—to annul 
the Fugitive Slave Act! 

In the Resolutions of ’98, and in 1829, Virginia 
proclaimed that “ Each State has the right to con- 
strue the federal compact for itself.” If, therefore, a 
Northern State believes that the Constitution does 
not warrant a fugitive slave act, of course it has the 
right, and it is its duty, to protect the panting fugi- 
tive by a Personal Liberty Law ! 

So, too, South Carolina. In 1830 she said: 

“The government created by the Constitutional 
compact was not made the exclusive and final judge 
of the extent of the powers delegated to itself; but, 
as in all other cases of compact between parties, 
having no common judge, each party has an equal 
right to judge for itself, as well of infractions as of 
the mode and measure of redress. Whenever any 


166 THE ROVING EDITOR 


State, which is suffering under this oppression, shall 
lose all reasonable hope of redress from the wisdom 
and justice of the Federal Government, it will be rts 
right and duty to interpose, in tts sovereign capacity, 
to arrest the progress of the evil.” 

During John Adams’s administration, Virginia, 
through her “medium,” Mr. Madison, used equally 
emphatic language : 

“In case of a deliberate, palpable, and dangerous 
exercise of other powers not granted by the said 
compact, the States who are parties thereto have the 
right, and are in duty bound to interpose for arrest- 
ing the progress of the evil, and for maintaining 
within their respective limits the authorities, rights 
and liberties appertaining to them.” 

Kentucky indorsed this doctrine through the pen 
of Thomas Jefferson : 

“The several States,” so the passage reads, ‘ who 
formed the instrument being sovereign and indepen- 
dent, have the unquestionable right to judge of the 
infraction, and a nullification, by those sovereignties, 
of all unauthorized acts done under color of that in- 
strument is the rightful remedy.” 

As late as 1825, Mr. Jefferson adhered to this doc- 
trine. See his letter to William B. Giles, dated 
December, 1825. 

The Southern Quarterly Review, the chief organ 
of the slave power, has repeatedly promulgated and 
defended this doctrine. It is from that periodical— 
June No. for 1845—that these extracts are selected. 
Of course it was not the fugitive slave law that called 
forth these opinions; but as what is sauce for the 
tariff must equally be sauce for freedom, it cannot 
complain of my use of its argument. 


/ 


IN GEORGIA. 167 


Freemen of the North! unfurl the Southern flag 
of Nullification! Resist the Fugitive Slave Law! 
“ Better far,’ as South Carolina once humorously 
said of the Southern slave region, “ better far that 
the territories of the States be the cemetery of free- 
men than the habitation of slaves!” 

True !—very true! oh, South Carolina! Soon 
may the negroes utter and carry out the doctrine! 


THE DRED SCOTT DECISION. 


The same number of the Quarterly to which I have 
alluded, contains a constitutional opinion, which, in 
view of the Dred Scott decision, is worthy of being 
written in letters of gold in the legislative halls of 
every free Northern State. Here it is: 

“ An unconstitutional decision of a judge is no 
authority ; and even if confirmed by: the highest 
judiciary im the land, namely, the Supreme Court of 
the United States, it would still be no authority: no 
law which any one of the States would be bound to 
recognize. An unconstitutional law is no law—rt Is 
NULL AND vorp—and the same is true of a judge’s 
decision given against the supreme law.” 

Can any good come out. of Nazareth? Undoubt- 
edly! There is a gospel of freedom in that one 
Southern word—nu.urication ! 


IS SLAVERY A LOCAL INSTITUTION. 


It does not suit the South now to admit that sla- 
very is a local institution. It is national, and a bless- 
ing now, and claims the protection of national insti- 
tutions. It may be well, therefore, to remind the 
Sonth of her old opinions. Read what Governor 
Wilson said in his message to the South Carolina 


168 THE ROVING EDITOR 


legislature—opinions which were enthusiastically 
indorsed by the politicians and the press of the 
State. It was during the days of Judge Hoar s 
mission : 

‘There should be a spirit of concert and of action 
among the slaveholding States, and a determined re- 
sistance to any violation of their LocAL INSTITUTIONS. 
The crisis seems to have arrived when we are called 
upon to protect ourselves. The President of the 
United States, and his law adviser, so far from re- 
sisting the efforts of foreign ministry, appear to be 
disposed, by an argument drawn from the over- 
whelming powers of the General Government, to 
make us the passive instruments of a policy at war 
not only with our interests, but destructive also of 
our national existence. The evdls of slavery have 
been visited upon us by the cupidity of those who 
are now the champions of universal emancipation. 
To resist, at the threshold, every invasion of our 
domestic tranquillity and to preserve our independ- 
ence as a State, is strongly recommended ; and if an 
appeal to the first principles of the right of self. 
government is disregarded, and reasons be success- 
fully combated by sophistry and error, there would 
be more glory in forming a rampart with our bodies 
on the confines of our territories, than to be the vic- 
tims of a successful rebellion, or the slaves of a great 
consolidated government !” 

Undoubtedly! Let the North apply this doctrine 
to freedom, and thus preserve 2¢s local institutions 
inviolate. Truly, in such a case, 

“There would be more glory in forming a ram- 
part,” ete.—!— 


IN GEORGIA. 169 


FORWARD. 


From the city of Augusta, I partly walked and 
partly rode to the town of Atlanta. I found the 
slaves in Georgia passwely discontented. They did 
not hope. Hope is a white there. They were not 
morose. They wore their manacles without a curse 
and without an aspiration. <A sad, very sad condi- 
tion of mind! 

Atlanta is a straggling business place, of about 
nine thousand inhabitants. I was there, I think, on 
New Year’s Day, 1855. Atlanta has no beauty that 
we should desire it asaresidence. It feebly supports 
two little daily papers, and two weekly journals—a 
medical and a theological organ. In the Southern 
States the newspaper press is neither so numerous, 
influential, nor respected, as in the northern section 
of the Union. It is gagged; the editor is merely the 
planter’s oracle; and hence, being a serf, it com- 
mands no respect. 


THE PEANUT SELLER’S TRIUMPH. 


I heard a good story of Young America at Atlanta. 
It shows what manner of individual that young gen- 
tleman is. I believe I have forgotten to state that I 
was credibly informed that boys of from twelve to 
sixteen years of age frequently wear bowie knives 
and pistols in the southern part of Georgia. 

One day, at Atlanta, a peanut and candy-selling 
urchin, at the railroad station, was rudely pushed off 
the platform of the train by one of the conductors. 
“ He was so mad,” they said, “ that he weighed a ton.” 
Te swore revenge. His heaving breast, contracted 
brow, compressed lips, flashing eyes—and, above all, 
his half-muttered “By golly! if I don’t make you 

8 


170 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


pay for that, then I’m mistaken—there now ”—all 
these outward signs foretold that a dreadful retribu- 
tion awaited the devoted conductor of the freight 
train; for he was a full-blooded Young American, 
was this candy-selling urchin, and when he swore it 
was the sign that there “‘ was suthin’ orful a-comin’.” 

He sald. out his stock that day with unusual ra- 
pidity, for he sold it at half price, and was diligent 
at his business. He raised twenty-five cents and 
bought a piece of fat pork. 

The “orade” at Atlanta is very steep; and airy 
freight trains, when going at full speed, seldom ex- 
ceed the rate of three miles an hour until they reach 
a considerable distance from the city. 

Young America attached a piece of string to the 
pork, and went down with another boy to the place 
where the grade is steepest. 

“‘ Now, look ’ye here,” said the candy seller to his 
comrade, as he placed the fat pork on the rail, “you 
take hold of that string and pull me along!” 

He squatted down on the pork and was trailed up 
and down both rails for half an hour or more by his 
willing and laughing comrade. The rail, of course, 
was rather greasy. The freight traincame up. Puff- 
uff-uff! Young America screamed with delight. It 
was literally as he said, “ No go, nohow!” 

For two days the engine vigorously puffed from 
morning to night in a vain attempt at progress. The 
conductor was finally compelled to call in the aid of 
another engine. 

Thus concludeth the instructive history of the 
Peanut Seller’s Triumph; or, Young America’s 
Revenge. 





, 


to Lar ~- 


ee 


wen 


ad Me 


ee 
- 


- 


& 


al hae A t-warha 


+ 


XI. 


ALABAMA. 


“on we 


I WALKED the entire distance from Atlanta, Georgia, 
to Montgomery, Alabama. As I intend to revisit 
that country at the earliest opportunity, I will not 
here narrate my adventures on this journey. They 
would probably discover me—not my mere name, 

\ but personality. That I desire to avoid. Alabama, 

-as the reader most probably is aware, is preéminently 
S ~ the Assassin State; for it has still on the pages of its _ 
ve statute book a law ee the payment of $5,000 
for the head of Mr. ety dead or alive. 
The results of my journey are thus recorded in a 
letter from Montgomery : 


hk Atitotinuse 
wr é & ot 


wd 


OAL. { Qt Fe AC CEMA 


CONTENTMENT OF SLAVES IN ALABAMA. 


I have spoken with hundreds of slaves in Alabama, 
but never yet met one contented with his position 
under the “ peculiar” constitutions of the South. But 
neither have I met with many slaves who are actively | 
discontented with involuntary servitude. Their dis- 
content is passive only. They neither hope, nor 
grumble, nor threaten. I never advised a single 
slave either in Georgia or Alabama to run away. It 
is too great a responsibility to incur. The distance 


is too far; the opportunities and the chances of es- 
171 


172 THE ROVING EDITOR 


cape too few. The slaves, 1 found, regard themselves 
as the victims of a system of injustice from which 
the only earthly hope of escape is—the grave ! 


RAILROAD HANDS. 


The shareholders of the railroad from West Point, 
Georgia, to Montgomery, Alabama, own all the slaves 
who are employed in grading, pumping, wood cutting, 
engine firing, and in other necessary labors along the 
line. These men are the most favored sons of Africa 
envployed in the country, in the States of Alabama or 
Georgia. They are hard worked from sun to sun, 
and from Christmas to Christmas, but they are well 
fed and clothed, and comfortably lodged—comfort- 
ably, that is, for negro slaves. 


THEIR ALLOWANCE. 


They receive five pounds of pork, a pint of molasses, 
and one peck of meal each per week; three suits of 
clothes, a blanket and a hat a year. But they have 
no wives. ‘They are chiefly by birth Virginians, and 
were nearly all bought in the Old Dominion eleven 
years ago. The majority that I spoke with were 
married men and fathers at the time of the purchase ; 
but, as the railroad company had no need of female 
servants, theer “* Domestic Institutions” were broken 
up, and— wifeless and childless—the poor “ fellows” 
(as they are called), were transported south, and con- 
demned for life to Alabama celibacy and adultery. 
Of course, He who, amid the lightnings of Mount 
Sinai, uttered the command, “ Thou shalt not commit 
adultery,” was the founder of the system of slavery 
in America, which breeds such crimes, and many 
others of the same character, but far more odious in 


mM MF ee) Vet tt41 dg . 
4 


IN ALABAMA. To 


j 


their nature! Of course, Don’t the Southern clergy 
and the Rev. South-Side Adams, of Instantaneous 
Conversion and Instantaneous Rendition notoriety, 
announce the fact? And don’t they know? 


MARRIAGE AND SLAVERY. 


Several of these hands, as they frankly owned, 
have cohabited with plantation slaves since their 
arrival in Alabama. All of them, of course, resem- 
ble Napoleon in one respect—they are “no Capu- 
chins.” One of them—a bachelor when sold, and 
who had been clerically married here—remarked 
to me: 

‘Yes, mass’r, 1’se been married; but it’s no satis- 
faction for a man in this country.” 

“Why?” 

“*Oause, mass’r,” he replied, “you see white folks 
here don’t know nothin’ ’bout farmin’. Dey buy a 
place and use it up in two or tree years, and den 
dey go away agin. So we’s never sartin of our girls 
*bove a year or two.” 


THE RICH SLAVE. 


When about fifty miles distant from Montgomery, 
Isaw a young man of color, well dressed—rather a 
dandy, in fact—walking along the road in company 
with a country-looking slave, near to the railroad 
depot. I overtook him and soon began to inquire 
into his history. He spoke our language as cor- 
rectly as any educated man does in ordinary con- 
versation. He was a manly looking person and very 
intelligent. 

He was a slave; by trade a carpenter. He hired 
his own time—that is to say, he paid his owner $300 


174 THE ROVING EDITOR 


annually as body rent, boarded and clothed himself, 
and retained whatever money he made agter defray- 
ing these expenses. He was twenty-eight years of 
age. Last year he saved $100. Altogether, since 
he first cherished a hope of purchasing his freedom, 
he had succeeded in saving $930. 

‘¢ How much does your boss ask for you?” 

‘“¢ He said he would not sell me for less than $2,500. 
He was offered $2,000 cash down. I hope to buy 
myself for less. I was raised with him from a child, 
and I expect that he will let me buy my freedom for 
$2,400 on that account.” 

$2,400!” I exclaimed, “and yon have only got 
$900 yet. Why,it will take you fourteen years to 
buy yourself at that rate.” 

‘“‘T know that, sir,” he replied, “ but I can ’t help 
myself; yow see he has the advantage of me.” 

“Yes,” I returned, “but you have got $930 the 
advantage of him. Once on the road, you could 
travel rapidly to the North, as you could easily pay 
all your expenses, and would not have to run the 
ordinary risks of arunaway. If I was in your place,” 
I added, “I would see your boss in a hotter climate 
than this, before I would pay him the first red cent. 


Can’t you get any one to write you your free } 


papers ?” 

“ That’s what I want, sir,” he said—his eyes flashed 
as he looked on me and said it—“but I’m afraid 
to ask; I dare not trust any of the white men I 
know.” 

“T ll write them,” I replied, “if you will get me 
free papers to copy from. I don’t know how free 


papers are worded; but if you will show them to me, ~ 


I will willingly make out yours.” 


ye 


Ke le ~O729 $F 


IN ALABAMA. 175 


He joyfully promised to furnish me with the 
“copy” desired, and appointed a place of meeting 
in Montgomery. 

Alas for the poor fellow! Either I mistook the 
place of rendezvous, or, fearing betrayal, he was 
afraid to meet me. 


OTHER SLAVES AND SLAVE SALES. 


My washerwoman in Montgomery hired her own 
time also. She paid her owner $200 a year; lived 
in a house rented by herself; was entirely self-sup- 
ported in every respect. 

Another man I spoke with—a plasterer—paid his 
owner $600 annually. He was a very intelligent 
and skillful mechanic. He would have sold for 
$4,000. 

These persons never see their owners, excepting 
only when they pay their body-rent. Of course, this 
demonstrates that the negroes need a master to take 
eare of them. And does it not prove, too, that 
American slavery is a patriarchal institution, with a 
vengeance and a half? 

The first things that I saw on entering Montgomery 
were three large posters, whose captions read respec- 
tively thus : 

“ Negroes at auction!” 

* Negroes at auction !” 

** Negroes for sale !” 

Three distinct sales of immortal souls within a few 
days were thus unblushingly announced. I saw two 
of them. In one instance, the auctioneer turned, as 
coolly as an iceberg incarnate, from the last of the 
negroes whom he sold, to a mule with a buggy and 
harness. Hardly had the word—“ Gone!” escaped 


176 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


his lips, as he finished the sale of the “ fellow,” than 
he began : 

“ The next lot that I shall offer you, gentlemen, is 
a mule with a buggy and harness. This lot,” ete. 

The negroes brought very high prices. It is inter- 
esting to observe how the enlargement of commercial 
relations makes the interest of one nation the interest 
of every one with which it has extended intercourse. 
The Eastern war, which England was waging at the 
time, was the immediate cause of these inhuman 
auctions. Cotton was selling at so very reduced a 
figure, that many of the planters were compelled to 
dispose of a portion of their human live stock, in 
order to provide subsistence for the others. And this, 
you know, is one of the beauties of this beautiful 
institution. 


A GODLY CITY. 


Montgomery is a very handsome city. It supports 
two churches, one weekly (temperance), one tri- 
weekly, and two daily papers. Population, at that 
time, nearly nine thousand. It is the capital of 
Alabama. 

Montgomery, albeit, is a very godly city. It is 
true that its citizens sell human beings on week days; 
but then—and let it be remembered to its lasting 
honor—it imposes a fine of thirteen dollars for every 
separate offence and weed, on any and every un- 
righteous dealer who sells a cigar on Sunday ! 

Let us smoke ! 


ac UL, 


ABOUT SOUTHERN WOMEN AND NORTHERN TRAVELLERS 
CHIEFLY. 


I remAineD in Montgomery two or three weeks; 
sailed down the romantic Alabama to Mobile; in 
that place rambled for twenty-four hours; and then 
entered the steamer for the city of New Orleans. 

I passed the winter there. For reasons that I have 
already stated, I did not speak with the slaves on the 
subject of bondage during the earlier part of my 
sojourn; and, as I was obliged to leave the city in a 
hurry—to escape the entangling endearments of the 
cholera, which already had its hands in my hair 
before I could reach the Mississippi River—I never 
had an opportunity of fully ascertaining their true 
sentiments and condition. I saw several slave 
sales; but they did not differ from similar scenes 
in Richmond. 


THE HIGHER LAW AND OLD ABRAHAM. 


Let me recall one incident. In the courts of New 
Orleans there is an old, stout, fair-complexioned, grey- 
haired lawyer, of Dutch build and with a Dutch 
cognomen. I saw a pamphlet one day—his address 
to a college of young lawyers—opened it, and read 
a most emphatic denunciation of the doctrine of a 
Higher Law. , 

gx 177 


178 THE ROVING EDITOR 


One day I visited the prisons of New Orleans. At 
one of them—a mere lock-up, if I remember rightly, 
for I have forgotten its name and exact location— 
the jailer, or an officer in the room where the records 
are kept, told me, in the course of a conversation, 
that there was “an old nigger inside,” whose case, 
as he pathetically said in his rough way, was “rather 
too d—d bad.” I asked to be permitted to see him. 
I was conducted up dark and filthy stairs, through a 
dark and dirty passage, and accompanied to the 
door of a perfectly dark col an iron grating 
in its door. 

“There,” said the officer; “you call him; he’s in 
there. Ill be back in a few minutes.” 

I went up to the grating and looked in. The edor 
of the cell was revolting. The stench could not have 
been more sickening if the foul contents of a privy 
had been emptied there. I drew back in disgust. 

Again I approached the door, and, seeing no one, 
ealled aloud to the invisible inmate of the cell. 

A very old negro came up to the door and put his 
face against the grating. His wool was silvery; his 
face was deeply furrowed; his eyes were filmy with 
disease and age. I never before saw so very frail 
and venerable a negro. 

He told me his story. He had belonged to the 
lawyer who denounced the doctrine of a Higher 
Law; had been sold, with all the other slaves on his 
country estate, or on one of his plantations; had 
been purchased by a person who had hired him out 
to the Mississippi steamers as a deck hand; and then 
was put up, ata public auction, with some other 
negroes, who comprised one “lot.” Ie was very 
sick and could not work. His new purchaser at first 


IN NEW ORLEANS. 179 


refused to take him; and, when he again presented 
himself, told him to go back to the auctioneer. 
He returned. The agent of the great body-selling 
firm there turned him with curses out. of the office, 
and compelled him to carry his little baggage along 
with him. He threatened to cut his bowels out if 
he dared to return. 

Alone—sick—a member of an outcast race—with- 
out money—without family—and without a home in 
his tottering old age! Where could the wretched 
invalid go ? 

He applied to the police. They took him to the 
jail and confined him in that putrid cell! 

“How long, oh Lord! how long?” 

Here my talks with the slaves on my third trip 
end. From New Orleans I sailed to St. Louis, and 
from thence to Kansas, where [ lived, with brief in- 
tervals, for three years, during the “ civil wars ” and 
the troubles which so long distracted that unhappy 
Territory. 


ABOUT NORTHERN TRAVELLERS. 


With two additional extracts from my Letters, I 
will close this record. 

Why is it (it has been asked) that Northern travel- 
lers so frequently return from the South with pro- 
slavery ideas ? 

“Their conversion,” I wrote, “ has already become 
an argument in favor of slavery. A Yankee rene- 
gade, for example, whom I met_in South Carolina, 
and who told me that he had once been an ultra 
abolitionist—although he was now a pro-slavery poli- 
tician—after failing to convince me of the beauty or 
divine origin of slavery, or satisfactorily reply to 


180 THE ROVING EDITOR 


my anti-slavery arguments, abruptly concluded our 
conversation in these words: 

“¢ Well, you ’ll not hold these opinions long—at 
least, if you stay in the South. No Northerner does. 
If the niggers were as badly treated as the abolition- 
ists say they are—or if slavery were as diabolical an 
institution as they try to make out—what’s the reason 
that all the Northerners who come South with your 
notions, go back with different opinions? There’s 
Dr. Cox; for instance.” 

“lL reply: 

“TY. As to the treatment of the negro: it is of no 
sort of consequence, in my mind, whether the negro 
is treated ill or well, and no one, I think, should 
consider it for a moment in determining the right or 
wrong of American slavery. I deny the right of 
property in man. Property in man is robbery of 
man. The best of the slaveholders are cowardly 
thieves. They take advantage of a race who are 
down, friendless, inferior! There would be some 
nobility in enslaving an equal. There is a sort of 
virtue in extorting money from a powerful and popu- 
lar enemy. But how unutterably contemptible is it 
to disarm, to disperse, and then to rob a race of un- 
fortunate captives! If the Southern negroes had 
any chance of successfully asserting their rights by 
arms, I would not feel a single throb of sympathy for 
them. But they are carefully prevented from form- 
ing coalitions—the laws forbid them from assembling 
anywhere in numbers, unless white witnesses are 
present—they are not allowed to purchase or to 
carry arms—they are kept everywhere and always 
entirely at the merey of the ruling race. Zhen they 
are robbed of their wages—often of their wives and 


IN NEW ORLEANS. 181 


children also! Cuntvarry, forsooth! The only true 
knights of the South are the runaway slaves! 

“IJ. The Northern travellers fail to ascertain the 
true sentiments of the slaves, in consequence of re- 
taining their prejudicesofrace. I have been told by 
Northern ladies that, during their visits to the South, 
they have sometimes asked the female slaves if they 
would not like to be free, and were astonished at re- 
ceiving a reply in the negative. I have sometimes 
heard the same question asked of slaves, in order to 
convince me of their contentment, and have heard it 
answered as the Southron desired; and yet, withinafew © 
days, the same negroes have uttered in my presence 
the saddest laments over their unfortunate condition. 
Why? Because I did not ask the negro as if I 
honored him by condescending to hold a conversa- 
tion with him. I did not speak in a careless or 
patronizing tone. ‘This circumstance accounts for 
the difference of statements made by the same person. 
Topsy’s remark about Miss ’Phelia’s aversion to her 
is a true touch of negro nature. I have already said 
that the slaves often told me, at first, that they did 
not care about freedom. I have spoken long and 
confidentially with several hundreds of slaves in Vir- 
ginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Alabama, and 
never yet have I met with one—unless the Wilming- 
ton negro be excepted—who did not finally confess 
that he was longing for liberty. But Ispoke to dvem | 
as to men—not as to slaves. 

“III. Northerners generally confine themselves to 
cities, and judge of the condition of country slaves 
from the condition of the bondmen of the town. This 
is a great error, and the source of unnumbered errors. 
Plantation slaves form the vast majority of our four 


182 THE ROVING EDITOR 


millions of American chattels. They are the most 
degraded class of them. They either work under 
their ‘boss’ or an overseer, or are hired out for a 
stipulated sum per annum. ‘The tar, pitch, and tur- 
pentine planters, or rather plantation lease-holders, 
of North Carolina, are principally supplied with their 
hands from Virginia. These masters in the Old Do- 
minion often own no land, but live by hiring out 
their human stock from year to year. (I once got 
myself into hot water by calling a lady who lived on 
the hire-money of her slaves, a kept woman—kept 
by negroes! The epithet, although coarse, was de- 
served.) These negroes return regularly at Christmas 
to see their wives and little ones—¢f not sold—and to 
be hired out again. ~ 

“ Plantation slaves, when working under their own- 
ers, are more kindly treated, on an average, than 
when governed by an overseer. Slaves have told me 
so. Cotton, tobacco, rice, and sugar plantation slaves 
are worked from sun tosun. Their food and lodg- 
ing varies very much. They are not so well fed as, 
they could not be worse lodged than, the turpen- 
tine plantation and railroad hands, but in one respect 
their condition is vastly preferable. They have wives 
on these old plantations; while, from Christmas to 
Christmas, many of the slaves in the pineries and on 
the railroads of North Carolina never see theirs. 

“ Country slaves, as a class, very seldom, indeed, 
have any money. Ionce met a railroad hand who 
had saved $11; but he was regarded as the Roths- 
child of the gang. 

“ City slaves, on the contrary, are generally well 
clad. They get enough to eat; they often save 
money. I have met slaves—remember, cety slaves— 


Lf. 


IN NEW ORLEANS. 183 


who owned real estate and had cash in hand. They 
held the property under the name of another person. 
In the cities, the slaves—excepting the household 
slaves—are generally allowed to ‘hire their own 
time,’ as, with hidden sarcasm, the negroes term it: 
that is to say, they give their master a certain sum 
per month; and all that they make over that amount 
they retain. As negroes are usually a temperate 
and economical class of persons, the Southern city 
slaves sometimes save money enough to purchase 
their freedom. 

“ What, therefore, may be true of city slaves is 
no indication of the condition of rural bondmen. 
This fact, while it does not hide the cold-heartedness 
of such divines as South-Side Adams, vindicates their 
character and sacred office from the less odious of- 
fence of deliberate lying. 

“TV. Northerners, also, are gradually and insen- 
sibly influenced by the continual repetition of pro- 
slavery arguments; the more especially as they never 
hear, excepting in partisan news summaries, the 
counter arguments of the anti-slavery party. Beattie, 
in his book on the formation of opinions, ably ana- 
lyzes this tendency of the human mind. What we 
hear often, we at length begin to believe. In the 
South they hear only one side of the great slavery 
controversy, and are gradually, and without know- 
ing it, brought over to the Satanic ranks of the 
oppressor.” 


WHY THE SOUTHERN LADIES ARE PRO-SLAVERY. 


The Southern ladies, as a class, are opposed to 
emancipation. They are reared under the shadow 
of the peculiar institution; in their nurseries and 


184 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


their parlors, by their preachers, orators and editors, 
they hear it incessantly praised and defended. Their 
conscience, thus early perverted, is never afterwards 
appealed to. They seldom see its most obnoxious 
features; never attend auctions; never witness 
“examinations ;” seldom, if ever, see the negroes 
lashed. They do not know negro slavery as it is. 
They do not know, I think, that there is probably 
not one boy in a hundred, educated in a slave society, 
who is ignorant (in the ante-diluvian sense) at the 
age of fourteen. Yet, it is nevertheless true. They 
do not know that the inter-State trade in slaves is a 
gigantic commerce. Thus, for example, Mrs. Tyler, 
of Richmond, in her letter to the Duchess of Suther- 
land, said that the slaves are very seldom separated 
from their families! Yet, statistics prove that twenty- 
five thousand slaves are annually sold from the 
Northern slave-breeding to the Southern slave- 
needing States. And I know, also, that I have seen 
families separated and sold in Richmond; and I 
know still further, that I have spoken to upwards of 
five hundred slaves in the Carolinas alone who were 
sold, in Virginia, from their wives and children. 

Ladies generally see only the South-Side View of 
slavery. Yet Mrs. Douglas, of Norfolk—a comely 
woman—was confined in a Virginia penitentiary 
for the crime of teaching free colored children to 
read. If the woman of the South knew slavery as 
it is, she would not stand alone in her memorable 
protest against it. I’or young unmarried men are 
not the only sinners that slavery creates in the South- 
ern States. A majority, I believe, of the married 
men in South Carolina support colored mistresses 
also. 





A POEM BY NORTH. 185 


A FUGITIVE POEM. 


I wish to conclude this record of my second trip 
with an anti-slavery poem, written by my noble and 
gifted friend, William North, during the contest on 
the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, at the time 
when John Mitchel, of unhappy memory, gave utter- 
ance to his longings for a “ plantation in Alabama, 
well stocked with fine fat negroes.” It is indelibly 
associated in my memory with the recollections of 
my long journey ; for often, when alone, I repeated 
it Mend in the pineries of North Carolina, and the 
cotton and rice fields of Georgia and Alabama. It 
is entitled— 


NEBRASKA. 
I. 


There’s a watchword, weak and timid, 
Watchword which the gods despise, 
Which in dust the poet tramples, 
And that word is—Compromise ! 
Word of spirits, feeble, fallen, 

Creed of dollars and of cents, 

Prayer to the Prince of Darkness, 
From a craven army’s tents. 


II. 


Let an Irish renegado, 

Born a slave of slavish race, 

Bend before the Southern Baal, 

In his mantle of disgrace : 

He who turned his back on honor,* 
Well may cringe to slavers grim, 
Well may volunteer to rivet 
Fetters on the negro’s limb. 


* Alluding to Mitchel’s alleged breaking of his parole of honor, 


186 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


III. 


But the poet has no pity 

On the human beast of prey, 

Freely speaks he, though the heavens 
And the earth should pass away ; 

Aye, though thrones and empires crumble, 
Races perish in the strife, 

Still he speaks the solemn warning- 

Live for the eternal life. 


TNs 


Ye may talk, and print, and vainly 
Rear a pyramid of lies, 

Slavery is still a fiction, 

Still his lord the slave denies ; 

Still the mighty Institution 

Is a long enduring crime: 

God and devil, truth and falsehood, 
Slave and freedom, never rhyme! 


Vv. 


Is the negro man or monkey? 
Has he reason—yea or no? 

Is the brutal Celtic peasant 
Placed above him or below ? 
Is intelligence the measure, 
Or the color of the skin? 

Is the slavery of white men 
Russia’s virtue or her sin? 


VI. 


But I argue not; I scorn to 

Make a channel of my mouth, 

For the simple facts that conscience 
Proves to all from North to South ; 
There is not a single slaver 

In the land, that dares to say 

That the mighty institution 

Will not die and pass away. 


A POEM BY NORTH. 


Vil. 


Let it vanish! let it perish! 

Let the blot on Freedom’s flag 
Be torn from it, and rejected 
Though it leave you but a rag! 
Let the prisoner and captive 
Not be loosened on parole, 

But released as the descendants 
Of the sires your fathers stole. 


VIII. 


Not as foe, as man and brother 
To the South I say this word: 
What is past is past—the future 
Frowns upon the negro’s lord! 
Give Nebraska, give the future 
To a crime and to a lie? 
Rather leave the land a desert, 
Rather battle till we die! 


IX. 


Let the hearts of cowards wither, 
Let the pale intriguers flinch 
From a visionary peril, 

Say we—Not another inch! 

Not one forward step, oh blinded 
Worshippers of slave-born gold! 
Let a swift and sure destruction 
Blast the little that ye hold! 


By 


Who are ye, vain legislators, 

That dispose of man’s domain ? 
Who are ye, thus arrogating 

Over continents to reign? 

Know a truth—too long forgotten— 
Earth is man’s, and thought is fate : 
Pause! ye reckless band of traitors 
Ere ye sell mankind’s estate! 


187 


188 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 


xi. 


Compromises! Extraditions! — 
By the hope of life divine, 


Rather would I howl with devils ro 


Than such degradation sign! 
Aid in capturing a negro, 

Flying from the slaver’s land ? 
Rather forge, or steal, or murder 
With a pirate’s lawless hand ! 


XII. 


Let the course of reparation 

Flow as gently as ye will, 

Let humanity and justice 
Peacefully their ends fulfill ; 

But, to slavery’s extension, 

Let one loathing voice outgo 
From the heart of human nature, 
No!—an EVERLASTING—No! 


Mien ae RD. TRIP. 





se 


LYNCHING AN ABOLITIONIST. 


Berorr proceeding on my third trip to the sea- 
board slave States, let me narrate one scene that I 
witnessed in the Far West: 

On the 18th of October, 1855, I was at Parkville, 
Missouri. It is one of the little towns on the Mis- 
sourl River, and acquired some celebrity during the 
troubles in Kansas. 

It is built on rugged and very hilly ground, as 
almost all the towns on this unstable river are. It 
was founded by Colonel Park, a citizen of Illinois, 
twenty years, or more, before my visit to it. A mild, 
kind, hospitable, law-abiding man: one would natu- 
rally think that he—the founder of the town, the 
richest of its citizens, and a slaveholder, albeit, who 
had never once uttered an abolition sentiment— 
would not only have escaped the enmity, but even 
the suspicion, of the border ruffians of the State. 
But he did not escape. He owned the press and 
office of the Parkville Luminary, a paper which 

189 


190 THE ROVING EDITOR 


supported the party, or the wing of the party, of 
which Benton was the peerless chief. In one num- 
ber of the Lwmimary a paragraph appeared condemn- 
ing the course of the invaders of Kansas. 

Enough! The press was destroyed and thrown 
into the river by a mob of pro-slavery rufiians. 
Col. Park also got notice to leave, and was compelled 
to fly for his life. 

I went over to Parkville from Kansas city, Mis- 
souri, to attend to some business there. I had pre- 
viously made the acquaintance of several of its ruf- 
fian citizens. I rode into the town about one o’clock. 

After stabling my horse, and getting dinner at the 
hotel, I walked leisurely through the town. I saw 
a crowd of about twenty men before the door of 
“Qol.” Summers’ office. The Colonel—everybody 
in that region has a military title—is a justice of the 
peace, and has never, I believe, been engaged in any 
martial strife. I went over to the office.. 

“Hallo! Mr. R.,” said a voice from the crowd, 
“here’s an item for you.—Let’s liquor.” 

It was Mr. Stearns, the editor of the Southern 
Democrat, the pro-slavery successor of the Parkville 
LIumimary. 

After the usual salutations, he informed me that 
an Englishman, named Joseph Atkinson, had been 
arrested by his honor, Judge Lynch, charged with 
the crime of attempting to abduct a negro girl, and 
that the crowd were awaiting the arrival of a witness 
before deciding how to punish the accused. 

I looked into the office to see the doomed aboli- 
tionist. 

“Tt’s the way of the world,” I thought; but I 
didn’t speak my thought aloud! ‘ Here am I, whose 


IN MISSOURI. 191 


sins, in the eyes of Southrons—if they only knew it 
—are as scarlet of the reddest sort; free, a spectator, 
nay, even honored by being specially invited to 
drink by a band of ruffians, who, in a few minutes, 
will tar and feather this man, guilty only of a single 
and minor offence !” 

I held my tongue; for, says not the sage that 
though speech be silvern, silence—divine silence— 
is golden ? 

There were about fifteen persons in the room, 
which had the ordinary appearance of an out-West 
justice’s office, with a green-covered table before the 
magistrate’s desk, a home-manufactured book-case, 
with the usual limited number of sheep-bound volumes 
on its shelves, forms around the sides close to the 
walls, a few second-hand chairs here and there, a pail 
of water in the corner, a bottle redolent of “ old rye ” 
near his honor’s seat, and dust, dirt and scraps of 
papers everywhere about the floor. 

I closely scrutinized the persons in the room, but 
signally failed to recognize the prisoner. 

He was pointed out to me. He was sitting on a 
low form, leaning slightly forward, his legs apart, 
whirling his cap, which he held between his hands, 
round and round in rapid revolution. He kept up, 
at the same time, a very energetic course of chewing 
and expectoration. No one would have suspected 
his critical situation from his demeanor or the expres- 
sion of his face. I never saw a man more apparently 
unconcerned. 

He was a fair=complexioned, blue-eyed, firmly 
knit, rather stupid-looking man, about twenty-five 
years of age. He was a ropemaker by trade, and 
had worked near Parkville for five or six weeks vast. 


192 THE ROVING EDITOR 


It appears that he tried to induce a negro girl, the 
“‘ property” of Widow Hoy, to go with him to St. 
Louis, where he proposed that they should spend the 
winter, and then go together to a Free State. This 
programme shows how stupid he must have been, or - 
how totally ignorant of Southern institutions, and the 
manner in which they are supported by their friends. 
The girl agreed to go, but wished to take a colored 
couple, friends of hers, along with them. He did 
not seem at first to like the proposition, but finally 
agreed to take them with him. The day of fhght 
was fixed. The colored trio’s clothes, it is said, were 
already packed up. They intended to have started 
on Saturday, but the secret came to the knowledge 
of a negro boy—another slave of Mrs. Hoy’s, to 
whom also the girl’s married friends belonged—who 
instantly divulged “the conspiracy” to his mistress. 
Measures were taken, of course, promptly and effec- 
tually to prevent the exodus. A committee of inves- 
tigation was appointed to watch the movements of 
the ropemaker, and to procure evidence against him 
from the implicated negroes. 

Atkinson’s colored mistress and the married cou- 
ple were privately whipped, and the punishment was 
relentlessly protracted, until they openly confessed 
all they knew. — 

The committee of investigation—all men “ of pro- 
perty and standing” in the county—patrolled the 
streets for two successive nights, watching the steps 
of the girls and Atkinson. Has /reedom such de- 
voted friends in the Free States ? 

The Englishman was then arrested, and sternly 
interrogated. He gave evasive and contradictory 
versions of his connection with the girl: which was 


IN MISSOURI. 193 


criminal both in point of morals and in the Southern 
social code. 

He said enough, his self-constituted judges thought, 
to criminate himself—and such extorted testimony, 
however perverted, however contradictory, is as good 
as gospel (and, indeed, a good deal better) in all 
trials for offences against the darling institution of 
the Southern States. 

Thus the matter stood when I joined the crowd. 

After a private conversation between the members 
of the committee, the rabble entered the office, and 
soon filled the forms and the vacant chairs. 


RUFFIAN LYNCH LAW PLEAS. 


Col. Summers opened the meeting, by alluding to 
the circumstances that had called them together. 
There was a kind of property in this community (he 
said), guaranteed to us by the Constitution and the 
laws, which must not be tampered with by any one. 

“ Dammed if it must,” whispered a hoarse, brutal 
voice beside me. 

“Tt was as much property to us,” he continued, 
warming with his glorious theme, “as much property 
to us as so many dollars and cents—it was our dollars 
and cents in fact—and so recognized by the statutes 
of Missouri and the Constitution of the United States. 
Evidence had been obtained against the prisoner,” 
he added, after this eloquent and learned exordium, 
“from negroes, which agreed with his own statement 
minutely enough to convince him”—the speaker— 
“that Atkinson was guirty. What is to be done with 
him, gentlemen?” he asked, “shall we merely drive 
him out of our city”—population 600—‘‘and thus 
let him go unpunished? I’m opposed to that course, 


194 THE ROVING EDITOR 


gentlemen, for one,” he said; but with adroit non- — 
committalism, he added, “I would like this meeting 
to decide what to do with him.” 

Major Jesse Summers was next called on. A very 
“solid” man is Major Jesse Summers. Weight, I 
should judge, about ten tons avoirdupois! No mili- 
tary reputation hath the fleshy Jess; never did he 
head a bold brigade; never did he drill a gallant 
company ; but the rank and the title—or the title less 
the rank—of a major, no less, hath the ponderous 
Jesse Summers. Not having resided very long 
among them, he said; he had not wished to appear 
prominently in this matter. A judicious man, you 
see, is Major Jesse Summers. “But,” he continued, 
“as his opinion on this subject was expected, he 
thought that if all the committee were satisfied that 
the person arrested was guilty of this erzme, of which” 
—said Jesse—“ I have no doubt myself individually,” 
he, Jesse, was of opinion, “that they ought to give 
him a coat of tar and feathers, and let him go.” 

Murmurs of applause greeted Jesse, as he resumed 
his seat: which he received with a greasy smile. 

Mr. Stearns—/és title I have forgotten—then called 
on every one of the committee to express their 
opinion of the prisoner’s innocence or guilt. 

Each of the committee, one by one, every one— 
for no dodging is permitted when slavery’s interests 
are at stake—arose, and pronounced him, in their 
opinion, guilty of the crime with which he stood 
charged. 

Gumty! *‘*Proclaim liberty throughout all the 
land, to all the inhabitants thereof.” We read that 
Gop thus spoke. Did he order, then, the commission 
of a crime? No doubt of it, the ruflians would insist! 


IN MISSOURI. 195 


When the committee sat down, Mr. Stearns again 
rose. Stearnsisa lawyer. ‘This, he said, is an extra- 
judicial case! It is not provided for in the statute 
book. It devolves on the meeting, therefore, to— 

Set him free, if no law is violated? No. “To 
say,’ said Stearns, “what punishment shall be in- 
flicted on the prisoner. The major had suggested 
that he be tarred and feathered, and started out of 
town. What had they to say to that? He moved 
that the prisoner be so punished.” 

The motion was seconded, and put. 

It was carried, of course, as a harder punishment 
would as easily have been, if the major or any other 
solid citizen had made the suggestion. 

Mr. Stearns—‘‘ The meeting has decided that the 
prisoner be tarred and feathered.” 

Mr. Hughes, a brutal ruffian, added—“ And 
lighted.” 

Another hoarse voice exclaimed: “ Let’s hang 
him ; it’s too good for him.” 

[Does the reader know what lighted means? The | 
proposition was to set the tar on jire, after it covered 
the body of the prisoner. A mind that could con- 
ceive so devilish a suggestion, is a fit and worthy 
champion of slavery.] 

“Hang him!” shouted several voices. 

Mr. Stearns interposed. ‘No, no, gentlemen 
he said. “Tar and feathering is quite enough on 
nigger evidence.” 

This adroit phrase satisfied nearly all, but several 
still seemed disposed to maintain that negro evi- 
dence, as against abolitionists, was as good as good 
need be. 

Up jumped Capt. Wallace, a fierce, very vulgar- 


19 


196 THE ROVING EDITOR 


looking bully, with a pistol stuck conspicuously in 
his belt. ‘I move,” he shouted, “that he be given 
fifty lashes.” 

Another fellow moved that it be a hundred lashes. 

By the influence of Mr. Stearns, these motions were 
defeated. 

During all this discussion the prisoner still chewed 
his tobacco, and twirled his cap, as careless, appa- 
rently, as if it was of no interest or consequence to 
him. 

He never spoke but once—when the sentence was 
announced—and then he had better held his tongue. 

“D—n me!” he said quietly, “if ever I have any- 
thing to do with a negro again !” 

“ Better not!” was the captain’s fierce suggestion. 

An executive committee was appointed, and the 
meeting adjourned. 


THE LYNCHING DONE. 


Some of the committee went for tar, and some for 
feathers, while the rest of them stood sentinels at the 
door of the room. ‘Tar enough was brought to have 
bedaubed the entire population of Parkville, includ- 
ing the women, the little children and the dogs; 
feathers enough to have given the prisoner a dozen 
warm coats, and left sufficient for a pair of winter 
pantaloons. 

“Now!” said Capt. Wallace to Atkinson, in a 
savage tone, “now, stranger, to save trouble, off with 
your shirt !” 

With imperturbable coolness, and without opening 
his lips, the prisoner doffed his linen and flannel. 
As he wore neither vest nor coat, this ceremony was 
speedily concluded. 


IN MISSOURI. 197 


“He’s obedient!” said one of the crowd; “it’s 
best for him !” 

“ He’s got off too d—d easy,” said a second. 

“ That’s a fact,” chimed a third. 

By this time the prisoner was’ entirely naked, from 
the loins upward. 

“Come out here,” said Captain Wallace, “we 
don’t want to smear the floor with tar.” 

Silently and carelessly Atkinson followed him. 

A ruffian named Bird, and the wretch who pro- 
posed to burn the prisoner—dzerds of a feather—then 
cut two paddles, about a yard long (broad at one 
end), and proceeded slowly, amid the laughter and 
jests of the crowd, which Atkinson seemed neither 
to see nor care for, to lay the tar on, at least 
half an inch deep, from the crown of his head to his 
waist; over his arms, hands, cheeks, brow, hair, 
armpits, ears, back, breast, and neck. As he was 
besmearing Mr. Atkinson’s cheeks, one of the opera- 
tors, bedaubing his lips, jocularly observed, that he 
was “touching up his whiskers,” a scintillation of 
genius which produced, as such humorous sparks 
are wont to do, an explosive shout of laughter in 
the crowd. All this while the only outward sign 
' of mental agitation that the prisoner exhibited, was 
an increased and extraordinary activity in chewing 
and expectorating. 

“Guess you’ve got enough on—put on the feathers,” 
said an idle member of the executive committee. 

“You’re doing it up brown,” said a citizen en- 
couragingly to the operators. 

“Yes, swr,” chirruped Bird, as he took hold of the 
bag of feathers, and threw a handful on the prisoner’s 
neck. 


198 THE ROVING EDITOR 


‘Pour them on,” suggested a spectator. 

“‘No, it’s better to put them on in handfuls,” said 
another voice. 

Four ruffians (all men of social position,) took hold 
of the ends of two long poles, of which they made a 
rude St. Andrew’s cross. 

“Sit on there,” said Mr. Hughes, pointing to the 
part where the poles crossed, and addressing the pri- 
soner. 

“ Why, they’re going to ride him on a rail,” said a 
voice beside me. 

“Serves the d—d scoundrel right,” returned his 
companion. 

“Yes,” replied the voice, “he ought to be hanged.” 

“He’s very right to do as he’s bid,” observes a 
man near the prisoner, as Atkinson calmly put his 
legs over the poles. ‘“ Best for him.” 

The tarred-and-feathered victim was then raised in 
the air; each of the four citizens putting the end of 
a pole on his shoulder, in order to render the prisoner 
sufficiently conspicuous. They carried him down the 
main street, which was thronged with people, down 
to the wharf, back again, and through several of the 
smaller streets. 

Just as the grotesque procession—which it would 
require the graphic pencil of a Bellew to do justice 
to—was passing down the main street, amid the 
laughter and jeers of the people, a steamer from St. 
Louis stopped at the wharf, and I ran and boarded 
her. When I returned, the prisoner had been re- - 
leased. He was put over the river that night. 


Ne 
BOSTON TO ALEXANDRIA. 


AtrexanpeiA, J/ay, 14.—I left our quiet Boston on 
Monday evening by the steamboat train; spent Tues- 
day in hurrying to and fro, in the hurly-burly city of 
New York; on Wednesday afternoon, I paced the 
sombre pavements of the Quaker City ; while to-day 
I have visited the City of Monuments, and the City 
of Magnificent Distances and of innumerable and 
interminable perorations and definitions of positions. 
I intended to stay for a time in Washington; but ran 
through it, like Christian out of Vanity Fair, pray- 
ing to be delivered from the flocks of temptations, 
which hover, like ghouls, in and around the executive 
mansion and the capitol of our republic. 


SAIL TO ALEXANDRIA. 


Having thus, with expeditious virtue, resisted all 
offers of official position, I entered the ferry boat— 
George Page, by name—which plies between the 
capital and the city of Alexandria. It rained heavi- 
ly and incessantly all the forenoon. Alexandria is 
ten miles from Washington, by water, but I saw very 
little of the scenery. What I did see was in striking 
contrast to the banks of the Delaware. Jreedom 
has adorned the Delaware’s sides with beautiful villas, 


and splendid mansions, surrounded by gardens and 
199 


200 THE ROVING EDITOR 


fields, carefully and scientifically cultivated ; while 
slavery, where the national funds have not assisted 
it, has placed negro cabins only, or ordinary country- 
houses, to tell of the existence and abode of Saxon 
civilization. 

After doling out to the captain of the boat, each 
of us, the sum of thirteen cents, we were landed at 
the wharf of Alexandria; and our feet, ankle deep in 
mud, stood on the here miry, ill-paved, but sacred 
soil of the Old Dominion. 


\ FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 


Presently, we entered a Virginia omnibus—of 
Virginia manufacture—lined and with seats of the 
very coarsest carpeting—with panels dirty, glass 
dirty, and filthy floor—drove through dirty, ill-paved 
streets, seeing dirty negro slaves and dirty white 
idlers—the only population visible—and were halted 
in front of the City Hotel. The omnibus and its 
_ surroundings had so affected my physical organiza- 
tion, that I immediately called for a bath. But I 
found that there is not a public bath in all Alexan- 
dria. It rained heavily still. Blue-spirited, I sat 
down in the bar-room, and read the papers. 


THE COUNTY PAPERS. 


Alexandria supports two daily papers, the Sentinel 
(Democratic) and Gazette, (American). Both lan- 
guish so decidedly that a “ consolidation,” would not 
_make one flourishing journal. Of a number of par- 
agraphs, significant as indications of the overwhelm- 
ing success of slave society, the present state of Vir- 
ginia and its cause, or as curiosities of the Southern 
press and people, I subjoin the extracts following : 


IN VIRGINIA. 201 


REASONS FOR DECLINING. 


In the Northern States, when a candidate declines 
to run, it is generally because he believes he would 
be beaten if he did. J. W. Patterson, of this county, 
has declined from a very different motive—because 
popularity, prosperity and hospitality, are incompati- 
ble in Virginia. He says: 


(¥~ To the Voters of Fauquier Co.—I am induced by a 
number of considerations, to withdraw from the position I oc- 
cupy as candidate for a seat in the next House of Delegates of 
Virginia. In the first place, I find that a man has to quit all 
private business, if he would become popular. Secondly, that 
every small deed of kindness, the loaning of money even as a 
business transaction, or any act that good citizenship and good 
neighborship imposes, is entirely perverted, and attributed all to 
selfish motives, for electioneering purposes, etc. . . . . I 
have many warm friends, I believe, but I hope.they will excuse 
me for declining now ; but I am at all times feady to serve the 
public and private interests of the country when called on. 

Your most obedient servant, 


J. W. PATTERSON, 


A SLAVE GIRL’S REVENGE. 


Conceal or deny it as they may, the slaveholders 
must feel the truth of Mr. McDowell’s declaration, 
that “slavery and danger are inseparable.” Such 
evidences as this paragraph gives, are too serious to 
be sneered at or overlooked: 

“Nancy, slave of Mr. Seth Marsh, has been ar- 
rested in Norfolk for attempting to poison the family 
of Mrs. Reid, milliner, residing on Church street, by 
whom she was hired. It was shown that oxalic acid 
had been mixed in with some food which the girl had 
been cooking for the family.” 

g* 


202 THE ROVING EDITOR 


There are evidences, also, in every paper I pick 
up, of the beneficial effect of Northern free emigra- 
tion. Wherever the free colonists settle, up goes the 
price of land forthwith. Here is an illustration: 


. “RISE OF REAL ESTATE. 


“Mr. Seth Halsey, a few days since, sold his farm of 
600 acres near Lynchbury, Va., to Mr. Barksdale, of 
Halifax, for $45 per acre. He purchased it several 
years ago of 8. M. Scott, for $27 per acre.” 

‘ In the county of Prince George, land, it appears, 
is equally valuable. 

The Planter’s Advocate notices the sale of a farm 
in Bladensburg District, consisting of one hundred 
and ninety-one acres of unimproved land, for 83, 247 
—seventeen doJlars per acre. 

Another farm, near Patuxent City, Charles County, 
near the teas line, was sold for $8,000; another 
still, in the same neighborhood, for $41 per acre. 

The Advocate contains another paragraph, which I 
cheerfully subjoin, as illustrative of the happy effects 
of the extension of slavery over virgin territories, in 
raising the price of Personal Estate in the Southern 
section of the Republic. The price of slaves in Fair- 
fax County is the same as here given. 

“Save or Servants.—A. H. Chew and R. B. Chew, 
administrators of the late Leonard H. Chew, sold, on 
Thursday last, part of the personal estate belonging 
to the deceased, consisting of several servants. The 
sales were as follows : 

“One woman and two small girls sold for $1,450, 
and were purchased by E. G. W. Hall, Esq. 

“ Boy, about 15 years of age, sold for $915, and 
was purchased by Wm. Z. Beall, Esq. 


ees 


~~ 


IN VIRGINIA. 203 


“Small boy sold for $700, and was purchased by 


. Daniel C. Digges, Esq. 


“Girl, about 14 years of age, sold for $900, and was 
purchased by John F. Pickrell, Esq., of Baltimore. 

“Two small girls sold, one for $880, and the other 
for $550, and were purchased by Mrs. A. H. Chew.” 


MY ROOM. 


Tired with the bar-room and the county papers, I 
asked to be conducted to my room. It is one of a 
series of ten, contained in the upper part of a wing, 
one room deep, the lower or ground part of which is 
either the cooking establishment or the negroes’ 
quarters. It runs into a spacious yard, and my win- 
dow commands an exhilarating view of the stables 
and out-houses. No. “35” is painted on.the door, 
apparently by some ingenious negro, who, unpro- 
vided with a brush, conceived and executed the hap- 
py idea of putting his fingers into a pot of white 
paint, and then inscribing the desired figures on 
the panels. As a work of art, it is a great curi- 
osity. 

The black man who conducted me to my room, as 
soon as I permitted him—which I did not do until 
my soul had drank in the beautiful chef @awvre of 
the unknown and perhaps unhonored artist—opened 
the door, and presented the interior of No. 85 to my 
astonished vision, and its multitudinous odors to my 
indignant. olfactory organs. 

Like Moses, am a meek man. It requires a pow- 
erful combination of circumstances to excite indigna- 
tion inmy heart. This view—these odors—I confess, 
excited me. 

“This is infernal,” I mildly remarked. 


904 THE ROVING EDITOR 


The room is of good size, nearly square, with two 
windows and a high ceiling—as excellent, in these 
respects, as nine-tenths of the hotel rooms, or hotel 
cells, in the city of Boston. But in every other res- 
pect, I believe that all Boston—I even venture to say 
New England—cannot match it or approach it. | 

The window that looks into the balustrade has evi- 
dently been undisturbed by water, cloth or brush for 
several months past. By placing your hand, flat, on 
the outside, you can secure an accurate delineation of 
it, quicker than a daguerrean artist could take it. In- 
side, it is embellished with innumerable indications 
of the transient visits of last year’s flies—tlittle dots, 
like periods, you know, which are familiar, I doubt 
not, to all good housewives, and their industrious 
helps. There are rollers inside to hang the curtains 
on, but no cords with which to pull them up or down. 
The curtain—an oil painted one—adorned with an 
old chocolate-colored castle, pea-blue hills, yellow 
rocks, and trees and shrubberies, with foliage like 
Joseph’s coat—of many: colors—is pinned on the rol- 
lers, and irregularly at that; its base describes an 
acute angle, and it is so hung as+to leave one-half of 
a bottom pane of glass uncovered ; for the purpose, I 
presume, of enabling the darkeys to watch the con- 
duct of visitors when they feel so inclined. 

The first object that presented itself to my aston- 
ished gaze on entering the room, was a nameless ves- 
sel, appropriate to sleeping apartments, which the 
servants had placed in as conspicuous a position as if 
it had been a glass globe containing gold-fish. The 
papering of the room was variously bedaubed and 
torn; the window opposite the door was nearly as 
dirty as its mate; a dirty, old, sun-stained curtain, 


IN VIRGINIA. 205 


of colored calico, wrhemmed, and torn in seventeen 
different places, hung mournfully over it. I went 
over to put this curtain to one side, in order to look 
out, but found that there was no means of holding it. 
I have had to stick my penknife into the window- 
frame, in order to hold it back, and get light, as the 
other curtain is hopelessly beyond my efforts. Were 
I to put it up, or tear it down, it would be necessary 
to clean the window for light to penetrate its present 
thick, sombre covering of dirt. 

The window-frames and mantel-piece, once, I 
faintly guess, painted of a light color, are in keeping 
with their dirty surroundings. 

The fire-place holds a little, rusty grate; the plas- 
tering immediately around it is nearly all knocked 
off; and the rest of it is covered with tobacco juice, 
and bears the marks of dirty boots. I don’t know 
but Pll buy the fender, and send it to Kimball. It is 
of copper, weighing about two pounds, but is so bent 
up, covered with verdigris and tobacco juice, that, 
until one lifts it up and examines it, it is impossible 
to tell what manner of metal it is of. 

A dirty slop-pail, with a broken wire handle, a 
dirty mirror hung like the curtain, a couple of the 
cheapest kind of chairs, a good bedstead and ward- 
robe (locked, however), a cheap dressing-table, and 
a dirty little pine table to hold the washbowl, com- 
pletes the inventory of this room in a Virginia hotel. 
There is a tradition, the negro tells me, that the ceil- 
ing was once whitewashed. I don’t believe it. 

After looking at the other rooms, I found that I had 
better, after all, remain content with No. 35. 


206 THE ROVING EDITOR 


TALK WITH A SLAVE GIRL. 


“ How much do girls hire for here?” 

“T gets six dollars a month.” 

“¢ How old are you?” 

“ Don’ no.” 

“ Are you free ?” 

“No, I b’longs to Miss 

“¢ Have you any children?” 

“Yes, I's got two.” 

“‘ How old are they?” 

*‘ Sal, she’s six, and Wash, he’s three.” 

‘Where is your husband ?” 

‘“‘ Tse not married.” 

“T thought you said you had children ?” 

“So I has.” 

“Ts your mistress a member of the church %” 

‘Yes, course she is. 

“Didn’t she tell you it was wrong to get children, 
if you were not married?” 

‘No, ob course not,’ was the simple and rather 
angry answer. 

“What did she say, when your children were 
born %” 

Did n’t say nuthin’.” 

I presume Miss , acts on the precept, “ Judge 
not, that ye be not judged.” Her charity for her 
slaves is great, and verily it covereth a multitude of 
sins ! 


99 








— 


ELI THAYER’S SCHEME. 


May 15.—I have had a conversation with a 
prominent politician of the town, on the plan of Eli 


by 


IN VIRGINIA. 207 


Thayer, to colonize Virginia by free white laborers. 
He launched out into an ocean—or perhaps mud- 
puddle would be the apter phrase—of political invec- 
tive against the “ black republicans and abolitionists 
of the North.” He regarded Mr. Thayer as a brag- 
gadocio—a fool—or a political trickster—who merely 
threatened Virginia for effect at home. He couldn’t 
think he was in earnest. I told him that Stringfel- 
low and Atchison had said that had it not been for 
Mr. Thayer, and his Emigrant Aid scheme, Kansas ere 
this would have been a slave State. 

“Then, sir,” said the politician, sternly, “if he 
comes to Virginia with such a reputation, he will be 
met as he peer ver —expelled instantly or strung 
up. 99 

He did not believe that a single responsible citizen 
of Virginia would aid or countenance his scheme of 
colonization. He did not believe that Virginia had 
contributed $60,000 of stock to the Company. Mr. 
Underwood“ was an impertinent intermeddler; he 
had been always kindly treated in Virginia, although 
his free-soil sentiments were known; but, not con- 
tent with that, he must go to Philadelphia, pretend- 
ing to be one of us, and, if you please, sent by us to 
the black republican convention, and make a speech 
there, indorsing a party whose single idea and basis 
of organization was hostility to the Southern people 
and to Southern institutions. Did I suppose the 
Southern people would endure that? ‘ They repelled 
him, justly,” said the politician, “as justly as our 
forefathers would have punished by death a traitor 
who should go from their camp to assist the British 
in their efforts to conquer the colonies.” 


208 THE ROVING EDITOR 


VIRGINIA POLITICAL SOCIETY. 


“ He had as little patience with a free soiler as an 
abolitionist. One had done as much as the other to 
excite the just indignation of the South. The Black 
Republicans talked of hemming slavery in, and 
making it sting itself to death, like a serpent. Why 
should the southern man be prevented from going to 
the common play-ground of the nation with his” I 
thought he would have said toys for slaves, but he 
called them) “property? The North might force the 
South to dissolution, but never to non-extension of 
slavery. 

“ He was often amused?he said}n reading the Black 
Republican papers. They would talk about the 
limited number of slaveholders, and ask whether this 
little oligarchy should rule the nation. Why, sir, the 
non-slaveholders are more opposed to abolitionism 
and Black Republicanism than the slaveholders. And 
they have cause. Liberate the negroes, and yeu put 
them on a level with the white man. ‘This result 
might not disturb the nerves of a Northern man, 
because there were so few negroes in their section ; 
but here, where they constituted a great class, it was 
a different thing. The two races could not live in 
harmony; one must rule the other. Put Theodore 
Parker, or any other fanatic, in a society where the 
two races were nearly equal in numerical force, and 
you would soon make a good pro-slavery man of him. 
Where there is freedom, there must be disputes about 
superiority. There is no dispute between the two 
races here. Lownanigger. There can be no dis- 
pute about our rank. So of the non-slaveholder. 
fTe’s white, and not owned by any one. He doesn’t 


IN VIRGINIA. 209 


wish that condition disturbed by any intermeddling 
northerner. : 

“There has been a great change in the sentiments 
of the people of Virginia on the subject of slavery, 
within the last few years: but not in favor of emanci- 
pation. No, sir! All the other way. I recollect 
my father going about with a petition in favor of 
giving the government—the National Government— 
the power to abolish it. Any man who would 
attempt that now would be tarred and feathered. 
The intermeddling of the North has caused us to look 
more deeply into this subject than we were wont to 
do. Sir, we hold that servitude is the proper and 
legitimate condition of the negro; it is evidently the 
position His Maker designed him for; and we 
believe, sir, that he is happier, more contented and 
more developed in slavery—here in the southern 
States—than in any other part of the world, whether 
in Africa, Europe, or the Northern States. 

“This change in public sentiment is continually 
going on—always in favor of perpetuating the insti- 
tution as itis. You will find my statements verified 
in every county you may travel in.” 

This gentleman is a respectable and prominent 
citizen of Alexandria. I call him a politician, 
because our conversation was of that character, 
rather than on account of his profession. His views 
are very generally diffused among all classes here. 

I asked him whether, if Northern people were to 
settle here—from the New England States—they 
would be likely to be annoyed on account of their 
sectional birth ? 

Te said that numbers of New England people 
were settled here; and, as they were sound on the 


210 THE ROVING EDITOR 


slavery question, or quiet, they were not disturbed. 
If Northerners were sensitive, he thought that they 
would often be annoyed by conversational remarks— 
for, especially during times of election, denunciation 
of the North had become a habit of conversation. He 
made the remark I have italicized as if it was a mat- 
ter of course—nothing surprising, nor a circumstance 
to be lamented. } 

He said that if persons from the North, with free 
soil sentiments, came here to settle, they must cer- 
tainly refrain, even in conversation, from promulgat- 
ing their ideas, as they would undoubtedly be 
lynched or banished if they. did. 

Inly querying whether this was liberty, and whe- 
ther Virginia was a State of a Republic, I turned the 
conversation, and went from his presence. 


ALEXANDRIA 


Was originally in the District of Columbia; but, 
within a few years, has been organized, with a few 
miles adjoining, into the county of Alexandria. The 
county is the smallest in the Commonwealth, and is 
almost exclusively held in small lots, on which mar- 
ket produce is raised. 

Alexandria contains a population of from seven to 
ten thousand, as nearly as I can guess; for it is 
impossible to learn anything accurately here. Sevy- 
eral men whom I have asked, have variously 
stated its population at from six to thirteen thousand 
inhabitants. 

The first characteristic that attracts the attention of 
a Boston traveller in entering a southern town, next 
to the number, and the dull, expressionless appear- 


IN VIRGINIA. oi 


ance of the faces of the negroes—is the loitering 
attitudes, and the take-your-time-Miss-Lucy style of 
walking of the white population. The number of 
professional loafers, or apparent loafers, is extraordi- 
nary. 

TALK WITH A SLAVE. 


In coming from Washington, on the ferry-boat, I 
had a talk with one of the slaves. I asked him how 
much he was hired for. 

“JT vet $120—it ’s far too little. The other fellows 
here get $30 a month—so they has $21, and they 
only pays $10 for me.” 

“Why do you work for so little, then?” I asked, 
supposing, from what he said, that he was a free- 
man. 

‘1's a slave,” he said. 

“¢ Are the others free ?” 

“No, sir, but they hires their own time. Their 
mass takes $120 a year for them, and they hires out 
for $30 a month, and pays $9 for board—so they has 
$6 a month to themsel’es. I works as hard as them 
and I does n’t get nothin’. It’s too hard.” 

“Why don’t you hire out your time?” I asked 
him. 

“ Kase my missus won’t letme. I wish she would. 
I could make heaps of money for myself, if she 
did.” 

“ Why won’t she let you hire your time ?” 

“Oh, kase she’s a queer ole missus.” 

“What do your companions do with their money 
when they save it?” 

“ Oh, guess they sprees.” 

Would you if you had money?” 


912 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


SING, SIE”, 

“Do any of your friends save their money to buy 
their freedom ?” 

“Some on them as has a good chance has done 
it.” 

“What do you call a good chance?” 

‘‘ When our owner lets us hire our time reasonable, 
and ’lows us to buy oursel’es low.” 

“What is the usual pay for laborers ?” 

‘¢$120 or so—we as follows the water gets more. 
I won’t foller it another year, ’kase it’s too confini’ ; 
but Td allers foller it if my missus “lowed me to hire 
my own time.” 

“What is paid to white laborers ?” 

“Same as colored, unless they’s a boss, or suthin’ 
extra.” 

“Suthin’ extra,” I presume, meant mechanics, who 
receive, in Alexandria, $1 50 a day; carpenters $2: 
printers get from $8 to $10, by the week. Over at 
Washington, they are employed by the piece, but 
work, they say, is precarious and fluctuating. 


Bee, 


Farrrax Court Hovsr, day 17.—I left Alexan- 
dria this morning, on foot, to see how the country 
looked, how the people talked, the price of land, the 
mode of living, and the system of agriculture now in 
vogue in this very fertile section of Virginia. 

I regret to state that repeated walks through the 
city of Alexandria compel me to adhere to my first 
impressions of that lazy town. It is a dull, dismal, 
dirty, decrepit, ill-paved, ill-swept, ill-scented place. 
It has slowly increased in population, and its real 
estate has greatly risen in value, since the opening 
of the railroads which now terminate there, and since 
the incorporation of another line now in course of 
construction. 

With one-tenth of the natural advantages it pos- 
sesses, if Alexandria had been situated in a Northern 
State, one hundred thousand souls would now have 
been settled there. 


SUBURBS OF ALEXANDRIA. 


For three or four miles around Alexandria, the 
country is as beautiful as beautiful can be. I walked 
through it “like a dream.” The day was exceed- 
ingly pleasant—a soft, warm zephyr was blowing 


from the south—almost ponderous, at times, with 
218 





914 THE ROVING EDITOR 


the perfume of blossoms, shrubbery and flowers; the 
clear blue sky, variegated with fleecy clouds, in every 
variety of combination as to color and form—the 
shining waters of the apparently tranquil Potomac, 
visible and beautiful in the distance—cultivated 
fields in the valley and running up the hill-slopes, 
studded with houses, and interspersed with innumer- 
able strips of forest in full foliage—made a landscape, 
a terrestrial picture, of almost celestial charms and 
other-worldly perfection. 


A SMALL FARM. 


For two or three miles on the road I travelled, 
the land is chiefly held in small sections, and devoted 
to the culture of market produce. 

I entered the house of one of these small farmers. 
It was a one-and-a-half-story frame, old, and in need 
of repair; it had been whitewashed, and had rather a 
shiftless-looking aspect generally. 

The farmer’s wife—a bustling Yankee-ish woman— 
was at home; the old man was in town wie the pro- 
duce of his fields. 

I asked her how many acres there were in her 
farm, and whether she would sell it? 

She said there were fifty-nine acres, of light sandy 
soil; that they cultivated sweet potatoes and market 
produce, almost exclusively. She didn’t believe her 
old man would sell it; certainly not less than $100 
an acre. Land had risen in value very much indeed 
within the last few years. Her brother William, 
however, had a farm on the Lenehan road, that he 
wanted to sell—“ Well, he warn’t in any hose about 
it, either,” but she reckoned he mowt come to terms 


a 


IN: VIRGINIA. 915 


with me—it were a first-rate farm, too, and she be- 
lieved it would just suit me. 

“ How many hands do you employ to keep your 
farm in order ?” 

“Well, my husband, he keeps four hands besides 
himself; he’s in town a good deal, but we employ 
three niggers and a white foreman, all the time on 
the farm.” 

“And you keep a woman to assist you?” 

+ -Yies.;* 

“What do you pay for your negroes ?—do you hire 
them, or do you own them ?” 


COST OF SLAVE LABOR. 


“Oh, no, we don’t own none: we hire them from 
their owners, by the year. Field hands—first rate 
hands—get from $110 to $128; and we pay about 
from eighty to ninety dollars for boys.” 

‘What do you call a boy ?” 

“Well, a nigger from—say seventeen to twenty- 
two; pretty much, often, according to their strength. 
We count some hands, men, younger than others.” 

“What do you have to pay for women 2” 

“T pay seventy-five dollars for this gal, and then 
her doctor’s bill, if she gets sick, and her clothes.” 

** What do you reckon her clothes worth ?” 

“Well, we have to give them, both field hands 
and house-servants, two summer suits and a winter 
suit. That’s what’s allowed them by law, but most 
of them have to get more. We most always have to 
give them four suits a year.” 

“Tow much does it cost you to clothe a house- 
servant ?” 


216 THE ROVING EDITOR 


“Well, about fourteen or fifteen dollars a year, 
or 80.” 

“ And field hands ?” 

“ Field hands cost about the same, or not much 
more than women. Their summer suits cost very 
little, and we clothe the niggers in winter in what 
we call Virginny cloth; it’s coarse stuff, does very 
well, and don’t cost a great deal.” 

“Their pants, vest, and coat are all made out of 
the same stuff, are they ?” 

ak Ot" 

‘What do you manure your farm with ?” 

“Guano, stable manure, and lime.” 

I asked her a great many other questions—quite 
enough, and a few to spare, to show that I had lived 
in Boston—but she could not give me any reliable 
information in relation to agricultural subjects. 

She showed me her garden. Tulips and a great 
many other flowers are in full bloom; the cinnamon 
rose is bursting its buds; gooseberries are as large as 
a bean, or larger; nearly all the apple trees have 
cast their blossoms. Every tree, without exception, 
is covered with foliage ; grass is a foot high, and in 
some places two or three feet. Every grove is vocal 
with birds. 


AN ABSENTEE FARM. 


Further on—three miles and a half from Alexan- 
dria—is the farm of Mr. David Barber, of New York, 
an absentee proprietor, which is rented from year to 
year, by Mr. Leesome, a Virginian, who was also 
the agent, I ascertained, to sell it to the highest or 
the earliest bidder. 

After mature reflection, I concluded that it might 


IN VIRGINIA. O17 


pay me to buy it, if I could spare the money, and 
the price was reasonable. I accordingly went up to 
the house to make the usual preliminary investiga- 
tions. 

It is an old, large, once-whitepainted house, which, 
like the edifice we read of in sacred writ, is set on a 
hill that it cannot be hid. It is built on what a 
Yankee would call, “quite” a knoll—to-wit, a high 
knoll, and commands a most beautiful prospect of 
hill, and dale, and water. 

A country portico—I had nearly said shed—ex- 
tends along the entire front of the dwelling. The 
Venetian blinds on the room windows were shut, and, 
judging from the thick deposit of dust upon them, 
had been shut for several months past. 

I modestly rapped on the door, which stood hospi- 
tably open. A young negro girl, six or seven years 
old, came out of an adjoining room, looked at me 
steadily but vacantly, did not condescend to open 
her sombre-colored lips, but retired as she entered, 
without warning, and silently as death. 

In a moment or two afterwards a young mother 
entered, a woman of twenty-six or twenty-seven, 
pale, rather pretty, blue-eyed, modest-seeming, and, 
as conventional writers phrase it, very lady-like in 
her deportment. 

“Good morning, madam’—here your polite corres- 
pondent, as in duty bound, “doffed his tile,” with 
most “exquisite” grace. 

“Good morning, sir.” 

“JT understand that this estate is for sale ?” 

“6 Yes, sir.” 

“ve called to make some inquiries about it.” 


“ Please sit down, sir.” 
10 


218 THE ROVING EDITOR 


Your correspondent did so—first glancing around 
the room, and wondering whether or not it is not 
quite as easy to keep everything in order as to culti- 
vate untidiness; but he could not reply, having never 
studied Heaven’s first law himself—only seen it in 
successful operation in New England households. 

“‘ How many acres have you?” 

‘Two hundred and fifty-three.” 

“ How much do you ask for it ?” 

“Tt is n’t ours; we only rent it; it belongs to a 
New York gentleman; he offers to sell it for ten 
thousand dollars.” 

(I inly whistled, as my plan of buying it vanished 
into thinnest air at this tremendous announcement.) 

“What rent do you pay for it ?” 

“¢ $250 a year.” 

“ How many acres of wood have you %” 

“ Fifty, or thereabouts—most of it is swamp.” 

“How many rooms are there in this house ?” 

“Seven and a kitchen.” 

I asked her some other questions, but she referred 
me to an old man who was working—planting corn 
—down in a field near the line of railroad. 

I went down to him, 

There are two high knolls on the farm, which are 
formed of a gravelly soil. On the knoll south of the 
master’s house, is an old, large log hut—an Uncle 
Tom’s cabin—of three rooms; at the bottom of the 
knoll is a stable, requiring renovation, capable of 
holding eight horses and two tons of hay, and a barn 
which is calculated to accommodate fifteen cows and 
twenty tons of hay. The soil, except on the knolls, 
is a light, rich, clayey loam. 

It would take at least $500 to renovate the farm- 


IN VIRGINIA. 219 


buildings and the house ; while the fences are sadly 
dilapidated. The whole farm requires refencing. 

I went down to the field. A young negro man 
was ploughing, and a black boy of fourteen, very small 
of his age, was assisting the old man in planting. 

I asked him several questions about the farm, 
which it is unnecessary to repeat here. He said he 
kept ten cows; might keep twenty if he “ choosed ;” 
but there was no spring on the farm, and water 
was n’t quite handy. 

I thought, what a very insurmountable obstacle that 
would have been to a Yankee—a good swamp near 
at hand, and a chance to double his profits—but 
declined ‘because water was n’t quite handy !” 


FARMING IN VIRGINIA. 

He said he had only a rent from year to year; 
Mr. Barber would n’t give him a lease, because he cal- 
culated to sell it, and only allowed him to cultivate 
twenty-five acres a year, in this order—corn, oats, 
clover, pasture. 

The swamp was valuable, but the farm was n’t 
fenced near the railroad, or it would be worth fifty 
dollars more rent a year. Sometimes he raised fifty 
bushels of corn to the acre, but he did not average 
over thirty-five bushels. It took two men and a boy 
to cultivate these twenty-five acres and attend to the 
cows. He gave $80 a year for the young man—he 
was worth more than that, though—and twenty-five 
dollars for the boy. First rate field hands, that 
could cradle and mow, and good teamsters, brought 
as high, in this neighborhood, as $130 a year. 

Between this farm and Alexandria, he said, land 
was selling as high as one hundred dollars an acre. 


920 THE ROVING EDITOR 


He considered this farm the cheapest in this part of 
the country, the way land appears to be going now. 
It took four horses to cultivate this farm. 

His estimate of the cost of clothing slaves was the 
same as the lady’s of the other farm. Virginia cloth, 
he said, cost eighty-seven and a half cents per yard. 


TALK ABOUT FREE LABOR. 


I asked him if he would not prefer free labor? He 
said if he had a farm of his own, and everything as 
he wanted it, he would not employ a single slave. 

I asked him if he could not get free laborers here ? 

“Yes,” he said; ‘‘ you can hire Irishmen, as many 
as you want, from ten to twelve dollars a month.” 

“Why do n’t you employ them, then ?” 


IRISHMEN IN VIRGINIA. 


‘Well, for several reasons. First, there are too 
many slaves, and that induces us to hire them. It’s 
the custom, and you can order slaves about. You can 
make them do a job on Sunday, or any time when 
you want to; but the Irish, when they come to this 
country, get above themselves—they think they are 
Sree, and do just as they have a mind to!! Then, 
again, they are very much given to drink, and 
they ’re very saucy when they ’re in liquor.” 

“ What about the Virginians ?” 

“They 711 not submit to be hired by the year.” 

“Why not ?” 

“Well, I don’t know; it’s the custom, some how.” 

“Ts n’t it because slaves are hired by the year, and 
they do n’t want to appear to be bound like slaves ?” 

“Very probable. Now, you can’t hire a Virginia 
girl to do any housework.” 


IN VIRGINIA. 991 


“How do the Virginian free laborers work ?” 

“Some of them,” he said, ‘ work very well; but, 
as a general thing, you can’t hire them to work on a 
farm.” . 

I told him that if any of my friends came down 
here to settle, I should advise them to bring their 
Northern laborers with them. He said it would be 
the best and most profitable thing they could do, and 
advised me to go and see a Mr. Deming, a New York 
farmer, who had come into this neighborhood recently, 
and employed free laborers only. 

I asked the lady of the house if she could hire 
white servants. 


IRISH GIRLS AS HELPS. 


She said, “ Yes, you can hire Irish girls for four 
and five dollars a month.” 

“ Cheaper than slaves ?”’ 

“Yes.” 

“Why don’t you hire them, then ?” 

“ Because, when you hire a slave, if you like her, 
you can hire her from her master for seven or eight 
years, or as long as you like; but, if you hire an 
Irish girl, if she do n’t like you, she will leave some- 
times in less than a month, or stay all winter and 
leave you in the spring, just as your busy time is 
about commencing.” 


NORTHERN EMIGRANTS. 


I visited Mr. Deming’s farm, and walked over it. 
He has been here about four years. He paid $27 
per acre for the farm, which contains a long one-and- 
a-half story house, a barn and other outbuildings, a 
good orchard and a garden. He had devoted his 


992 THE ROVING EDITOR 


attention chiefly to a nursery, which he planted when 
he first came here. 

This farm was one of the run-out estates, which 
Eli Thayer & Co. propose to “rejuvenate, regenerate 
and redeem.” ‘This experiment augurs well for Eli’s 
great enterprise. It costs less—Mr. Deming says— 
to redeem worn-out estates than to hew down the 
aboriginal forests; and their value, after that, very 
seldom approaches an equality. Nearer markets, 
nearer civilization, the Virginia farms are much more 
valuable than Western claims. 

Mr. Deming had found the experiment of free 
labor to work well; he finds little difficulty in pro- 
curing it; and it is much more profitable in every 
respect. In every direction around-him the same 
experiment is in course of trial. 

I am indebted to Mr. Deming and his wife for hos- 
pitable entertainment, and much valuable informa- 
tion. 


NOTES BY THE WAY. 


After dinner at Mr. Deming’s, I rode back to 
Alexandria, for a valued casket I had forgotten, 
but immediately returned and resumed my journey 
afoot and alone. The further you leave Alexandria 
behind, the land becomes less beautiful and less eul- 
tivated. I subjoin these notes as the results of my 
talks and observations on the road to Fairfax Court 
House. 

Northern farmers first began to settle in this 
county in 1841. At that time, this section, now one 
of the most fertile in the State, was desolate and 
sterile, and the question was seriously discussed 
whether it could ever again be cultivated. The 


IN VIRGINIA. 998 


Northerners bought up the run-out farms, and imme- 
diately began to renovate the soil. Fertility reap- 
peared—the wilderness began to blossom as the rose. 
Virginia farmers began to see that there was still 
some hope for their lands, and immediately com- 
menced to imitate and emulate their Northern neigh- 
bors. The result is a beautiful and fertile country— 
fertile and beautiful, too, in exact proportion to the 
preponderance of Northern population. 

At Falls Church, seven miles from Alexandria, 
where a colony of Northern farmers settled, land is 
higher now than in any other part of the county at the 
same distance from the city. 

The Northerners first introduced guano, now so 
usefully employed in redeeming and fertilizing the 
farms in this State. 

This is the uniform testimony of every pea! white 
or black, that I talked with. 

The Virginians have a good deal yet to learn from 
the Northern farmer. I saw a large farm—of some 
two or three hundred acres—yesterday, which con- 
sisted of two fields only—the road running through 
the centre of the estate and thus dividing it. There 
were patches of different produce in these mammoth 
fields—pasture, wheat, oats and clover. 

I asked how they managed to “bait” their cattle 
on the clover pasture, without endangering the 
wheat. 

« Why, send a nigger out to watch them!” 

Fifty acres of land, three or four miles from Alex- 
andria, sold recently for $57. 50 per acre. 


224 THE ROVING EDITOR 


TALK WITH A SLAVE. 


When within two or three miles of this place, I met 
a stalwart negro, very black, of whom I asked the 
price of land. 

He said that some was as low as $380 an acre, and 
that it ranged from that price to $100: that it had 
risen very high since the Northern folks came in. 
This he said without a leading question, but he added 
instantly — 

“Dey soon learns Virginny’s tricks.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why, dey soon’s hard on collud folks as Virgin- 
jans.” 

“T have heard that,” I said, “but was unwilling to 
believe it.” 

“Well, mass’r,” he said, “it’s a fac; dey soon 
holds slaves, and sells him, too, after dey stays here a 
while.” 

* Are you a married man ?” 

“Yes; I’se gwane to see my wife now.” [He 
told me she lived some five or six miles off.] 

“Is it true that the Virginians sometimes separate 
families of colored people ?” 

“Oh,” he said, vehemently, as if surprised at such 
a question, ‘it’s as common as spring water runs.” 

“ @uite common 2” 

“As common as water flows,” he said. ‘“ Why, 
dey ‘ll sell a chile from its moder’s breast, as it were 
—dey does do it; I’se seen it done, dat berry ting.” 

‘What induced any one to do that ?” 

“Why, sometimes favorite collud woman’s chile 
die, and missus will buy anoder of somebody else’s.” 

“ How much do they get for a sucking child?” 


IN VIRGINIA. 995, 


“A darkey’s worth a hundred dollars as soon as 
he kin holler—dat’s what de white folks say bout 
here.” 

At the North,” I said, “when your masters come 
there, they say they never separate families.” 

“Oh!” he ejaculated, “just you stay few month 
in Virginny, and you’ll soon see it done hundords of 
times.” 

I have seen it done repeatedly—in Virginia, and 
many other Slave States. 

I must add one remark of this negro, which is a 
sion of the times. Talking of the Northerners in 
this section, he said: 

“Some on ’em, maybe, is agin slavery; but dey’s 
on de laght side.” 

«What do you mean by that?” I asked. 

*¢ Why, de Constitution is in de oder scale agin us, 
and de Northern folks here’s too light agin it.” 

This theory—Garrison’s Ethiopianized—was pro- 
bably gathered from some “ Only” Wise politician’s 
speech, or allusions to the Federal Constitution. 


10* 


lye 


At A Farmer’s Hovusr m Farrrax Country, Jay 
18.—Fairfax Court House, from which I dated my 
last letter, is a village of four or five hundred inhabit- 
ants—of what the Western people, in their peculiar 
idiom, call the “one horse” order of municipalities. 
It contains a court house, built of brick, one or two 
churches, half a dozen houses, on the outskirts of the 
village, built in rather a tasteful style, three taverns 
of the most decrepit and dilapidated aspect, and 
several stores which present the same unsightly and 
haggard appearance. It supports a paper, called the 
Fairfax County (ews, from the last but one issue of 
which I learn—and the fact is recorded as a thing 
to be proud of—that the people of the South, and 
especially of Virginia, abhor and detest that.“ sickly 
philanthropy ” which seeks to abolish punishment by 
death. No doubt of it. For don’t they cherish and 
inculcate that healthy benevolence which sells hus- 
band from wife, and children from parents ? 


A WHITE SLAVE. 


I arrived at Fairfax Court House, as the village is 
called, on Saturday evening, about sunset, and imme- 
diately put up at the best hotel. - I noticed at supper, 
that the young man who waited on the guests, was so 


nearly white and fair in his complexion, that he 
226 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 227 


might easily have passed for an Anglo-Saxon, if his 
hair, which was light, but slightly curly, had not 
betrayed his demi-semi-African origin. 

After supper, he showed me to my room—a large, 
high room, without a shred of carpet, and no other 
furniture than a chair, a very small washstand, a bed 
and a 9x 12-inch Yankee looking-glass. 

I asked my demi-semi-colored conductor if there 
were many Northern people settled in this vicinity ? 

He said: “ Yes, there’s a good many; two of the 
heirs to the estate are Northern men who married two 
of Mr. W——’s daughters ; they are worse on us than. 
the Virginians—one of them put me in jail once, 
and he was a great big abolitioner, too, when he come 
here.” 

This abrupt and slightly unintelligible answer and 
autobiographical incident, induced me to ask him to 
tell his story. He promised to come up after bed 
time, as he would probably be suspected if he staid 
with me now. 

I was very tired with my walk and ride, and so I 
went to bed, and was soon sound asleep. And be- 
hold, I dreamed a dream. I was talking. 

“Oh, sir! can’t you invent some plan so that I 
need n’t be a slave all my life ?” 

“A slave!” 

“ Yes, sir,” said a plaintive voice; “can’t you in- 
vent some way so that I can get to be free ?” 

I awoke and found that the slave was kneeling 
over me, with his hand around my neck. I had been 
talking in my sleep, sympathizing with him, cursing 
the slaveholders, and had touched his heart, uncon- 
sciously to myself! He said I had been talking about 
him, as if I was speaking to somebody else. I was 





928 THE ROVING EDITOR 


too tired to talk to him much. I only asked 
him— 

“ Who is your master ?” 

“T belong,” he said, “to the Estate: but am going 
to be divided in June.” 

“ Divided !” 

*‘ Yes, sir,” he said, “‘ we all on us is to be divided 
among the heirs—there’s eight on *em—in June, and 
L’s afeard Pll falt to one of the Northerners !” 

Next morning he told me his story, in reply tomy . 
questions. I took it down in stenographic notes. 
Here it is: 

WIS STORY. 

“T belong to the estate of W——. I will be 
twenty-one, I think it is in June.” (L have seldom 
known a slave to know his age positively.) “My 
mother was a light-colored mulatto ; she was a house- 
servant with old Mr W His son I} —— was 
my father. Old W. died about a month before 
last Christmas. The estate holds me and my mother 
too. There are eight heirs—all children of old Mr. 
Ww—. 

WwW had twenty-four slaves. We are to be 
divided this coming June. I don’t know who I am 
going to. There are two on them I would n’t like to 
go to, ’kase they would not let me be free. Some of 
the heirs gave me a note to go round among the 
heirs, to see if they would not set me free, and not 
be divided ; bekase I was the old man’s waiter all my 
life, and they knowed who my father was.” 

(This “note,” he explained, was an agreement, 
intended to be signed by each of the heirs ; and, if so 
siened by all, would havesecured the poor boy’s free- 
dom.) 














IN VIRGINIA. 229 


«____ one of the Northern men who married one 
of my master’s daughters, proposed this plan when 
the old man was living; but after the death of the 
old man, they both changed their minds, thinking I 
might come tothem. These Northern men used to 
talk to the old man that I ought to be free. After 
his death they ’posed it. All the Virginians, every 
one of them, are in favor of setting me free. 

“T am hired to this man fora hundred and twenty 
dollars a year.” 

*¢ Would you like to be free ?” 

“Yes, sir, I would that. Ido not get any money 
—not a cent—’cept what gentlemen I wait on 
chooses to give me. I have hardly time to change 
my clothes, let alone anything else. If I was free I 
would like to stay here if the law “lowed me, but it 
won't’lowme. I would have to go to Canada, or 
some’eres else. J couldn’t live ina slave State. My 
mother has no other child but me. She is rather 
browner than I am.” 

I would respectfully transmit and submit to our 
prominent anti-slavery politicians, the interrogatory, 
heart-broken and vital, of the poor white slave: 

* Oh, sirs, can’t you invent some plan so that the 
slave need n’t be in bondage all his life %” 

When I see slavery as it is, and hear the poor 
bondmen talk, I feel my republicanism rapidly going 
out of me, and radical abolitionism as rapidly flow- 
ing in. 


PRICE OF (INANIMATE) REAL ESTATE. 


Before leaving the village I was making some 
inquiries concerning the price of landed estate. A 
stranger came up to me and asked if I wanted to 


280° THE ROVING EDITOR 


buy. I told him I wanted to find out the price of 
— land, but didn’t calculate to buy just at present. He 
said he had three or four farms for sale, on com- 
mission, of which he gave the following descrip- 
tion: 

No. 1 is within two miles of Fairfax Court House. 
It consists of 140 acres. Twenty-five acres are in 
timber. It is a stitf,red clay soil. There are several 
springs on the farm; a comfortable log house, con- 
taining five rooms, with a kitchen detached. The 
farm is divided into two or three fields. Fencing 
pretty good. No barn, but a stable. Price twenty- 
five dollars an acre. 

(Fairfax Court House is fifteen miles from Alexan- 
dria.) 

No. 2 consists of one hundred acres. It has fif- 
teen acres of timber. Fifty acres are bottom land— 
a rich sandy loam: thirty-five acres of upland have 
a stiff, red clayey soil. A large creek runs through 
the farm, and it has about twenty different springs. 
It is divided into five fields. The outside fence is 
good; the inner fences need repairing. It has a good 
house on it, of seven rooms—kitchen in the base- 
ment—ten years old; and a good barn of 16 x 40 feet. 
It is nine miles from Georgetown, on the only road 
now passable. The bridges have been swept away 
on the others. Price, $35 an acre. 

He has three other farms for sale, at from $15 to 
$40 per acre. 

I asked him the reason why so many farms were 
for sale. 

“ Well, the emigration to Kansas and the South is 
one cause, and another reason is that a great many 
northerners who came down here, were too greedy 


IN VIRGINIA. 9ST 


to make money ; they laid too much money out in 
buying land, and didn’t leave a reserve fund to 
repair and improve on. ‘They calculated to pay part 
out of the farm, but didn’t keep enough to bring it 
up. Some Northerners are in as prosperous condition 
here as in any Northern State. Them that don’t 
come here to speculate, but settle down, do n’t buy 
beyond their means, and go to work, get on well. 
There ’s plenty round here who came down with 
small means, bought a small tract, and kept adding 
to it, that are independent. Others have been ruined 
by speculation.” 

“ Are there many Northern families in this coun- 
ty 9) 

“Yes, there are eight or nine hundred families— 
chiefly from York State, now and then a few from 
Pennsylvania, and occasionally one from Vermont.” 

I asked the price of farm stock. He said good 
work horses ranged from $160 to $170, sometimes 
$150. He said that if Northern men came down to 
settle here they had better bring their horses with 
them—it would be economical for them to do it. 
Two wealthy men from the North had moved into 
this neighborhood a month ago, and brought all their 
stock with them. 

Cows are worth thirty dollars, and oxen one hun- 
dred and twenty-five dollars a yoke. It would pay 
to bring them from the North here to sell them. 
Northern cattle brought as high, he said, as from a 
hundred and fifty to a hundred and seventy-five 
dollars. They are better broke, and last better than 
Virginia-raised cattle; so are Northern horses—we 
feed too much grain to ours. He said Northern 
emigrants had better bring all kinds of agricultural 


232 THE ROVING EDITOR 


implements, except heavy things—such as ox-plows, 
carts, and the like. 


FREE LABOR AND SLAVE LABOR. 


I asked whether free or slave labor was the most 
profitable here ¢ 

He said, “Slave labor, because you can get it 
whenever you want it. Some Northern farmers 
brought their laborers with them, but they soon got 
dissatisfied, and left. They found they had no one 
to associate with but those they came with, and they 
left. Then again, if you are pressed for work, you 
can’t get white laborers, and have to employ slaves, 
and white men won’t work with them. So you are 
brought down to the nigger again. Small farmers 
are working with white laborers, and do very well.” 


A VIRGINIAN ON YANKEES, 


“When -the Yankees come down, can’t you get 
them to work ?” 

“The further,” he said, “you go North, the more 
industrious the men are. They are obliged to work 
to get aliving. Lut when they come here they dete- 
riorate—in. other words, they get lazy, and they are 
always inventing something or other to get shut of 
work. Now, a nigger has none of that inventive 
faculty, and you get work out of him by hard knocks 
and clumsiness.” 

“But the Germans,” I remarked, “ are industrious 
workers ?” 

“Yes,” he said, “ but you must get them that don’t 
know much—the greener the better—one that doesn’t 
understand the English language, and can’t learn 
more than what you want him to do, is the best!” 


— 


IN VIRGINIA. 233 


SYSTEM OF FARMING. 


Two or three miles from—Fairfax Court House, on 
the road to Centreville, Virginia, I met a man and a 
boy carrying pails of water. I found he was a far- 
mer, and asked how many bushels they could raise to 
an acre. He said an average crop was five or six 
barrels. (They estimate by barrels here—a, barrel 
is five bushels.) 

“What is the average price of land between here 
and Centreville ¢” 

“Wall,” he drawled out, “say between fifteen and 
thirty dollars per acre.” 

I asked him what system of cultivation they 
adopted here. 

“Wall, we take a crop of wheat, say, or oats, and 
then sow it with clover, and let it lay two or three 
years.” 

I asked him if they had never tried the system of 
rotation of crops and manuring. 

sulle 

“ Do all cultivate in the way you describe ?” 

“ Yes,” said he, “most of them; they all ought to, 
but some take a crop every year, and run the land 
out. That has been the system in these parts until 
quite recently—within seven or eight years.” 

“ Who introduced the change ?” 

“The Northern people,” he said. “Since they 
came, they have carried up and restored a great 
deal of land, and taught us to do it, too.” 

“There are a good many Northern people coming 
in here—are there not?” I asked him. 

“No,” he answered, “not so many buyers as there 
used to be.” 


234 THE ROVING EDITOR 


Why ?” 

“ Because a great many’s sold out, and gone back 
agin.” _ 

He gave the same reason as the stranger at the 
hotel. 

The country in this section (I am within a 
mile of the western line of the county) is beautiful 
in most parts, and apparently very fertile. All that 
it needs is men who know how to till the soil, with- 
out exhausting its strength. Centreville is a hamlet 
of twenty or thirty houses. As I entered it, yester- 
day afternoon, half-a-dozen negroes were playing at 
ball—Sunday is their holiday—and over twenty 
white loafers were congregated in different parts of 
the place. Of their domestic industry I saw not the 
faintest indication, excepting only several very hand- 
some mulatto women and children. Every house in 
the hamlet looks as if it could recollect Noah, when ° 
he was a sucking child, and had been inhabited by 
ladies of the Mrs. McClarty tribe from time imme- 
morial. 

On my way from Centreville hither, I saw rye in 
the ear. The woods look very beautiful. 


AMALGAMATION. 


The abolitionists, it is well known in Congress—I 
mean in the Democratic. ranks—are, all of them, 
negro-worshippers and amalgamationists. If they 
alone, or chiefly, are the fathers of mulattoes, Fairfax 
county, Henrietta county, and every part of Virginia 
I have visited, are infested with these dangerous 
inhabitants. The number of semi-black children, 
men and women, that one meets with here, is extra- 
ordinary. 


IN VIRGINIA. 935 


Colored children and white children play together 
in the street—openly in the light of day—and they 
associate without concealment in the house; whites 
and blacks talk together, walk together, ride to- 
gether, as if they were men and brothers. 

Why is Governor Wise s0 silent on this dangerous 
indication of the amalgamation and equalization- 
ward tendency of Southern society ? 

What say our Northern Democracy to these negro- 
fraternizing Southern brethren ? 

I pause for a reply. 


V. 


PRINCE WILLIAM COUNTY. 


Warrenton, Favaqurer County, Way 18.—I have 
walked, to-day, across Prince William county, on 
the turnpike road, from Centreville to Warrenton. 
Prince William county is a small one. It has a pop- 
ulation of over 5,000 whites, 2,500 slaves, and 550 
free negroes. It has a thousand dwellings. Its an- 
nual educational income is $695! Only 316 pupils 
attend the public schools. Seven hundred and 
eighty-four white adults can neither read nor write, 
and nearly two thousand youths, between five and 
twenty years of age, are in the some benighted state 
of ignorance. The county, however, has church ac- 
commodations for nearly five. thousand souls. It is 
evident, therefore, that although the people’s minds 
must be dark, their souls have a very fair chance for 
salvation. That’s a great comfort. 
The county is divided into 579 farms, valued, with. 
improvements and implements, at $1,499,886; and 
containing 104,424 acres of improved, and 72,343 
acres of unimproved land. It produced, when the 
last census was taken, 57,728 bushels of wheat, 
59,549 of rye and oats, 161,248 of Indian corn; and 
10,374 of Irish and sweet potatoes; 96,679 Ibs. of 


286 


THE ROVING EDITOR. ey f 


butter and 2306 tons of hay, were the principal ad- 
ditional items in the list. 
So far Mr. Gradgrind. 


A FREE COLORED FARMER. 


The first person I met, after crossing the line, was 
a hearty old man of color, who was engaged in re- 
pairing his neighbor’s fence. Yankee-like, the first 
sentence I uttered, on seeing him, was an interroga- 
tion. I asked him the price of land. He said that 
a neighbor had recently bought a farm, adjoining his 
place, for $26 an acre. He wouldn’t swap his even, 
no how, either as buyer or seller. If I wanted to 
buy, however, he would sell me his farm, of one 
hundred and fifty acres of excellent land, for $20 an 
acre. 

I asked him if he was a free man, and why he 
wanted to sell. He said—Yes, he was a free man. 
His father was one of nine hundred and ninety-nine 
slaves, once the property of Mr. Carter, who liberated 
every one of them, and secured to them the right to 
remain in the county. Slaves who are freed now, he 
added, have to leave the State, or go to Washington 
and remain there a year to get their papers. His 
wife was there now. Her year was almost out, and 
he intended to go after her as soon as it expired. 

I asked if she was a slave, or had he bought her. 
He said she had been a slave, but her master freed 
her by his will. The master was an old bachelor— 
never married—but had a lot of children by a black 
woman. His wife was one of these children. He 
offered him five hundred dollars for her when she 
was quite young, but he said he would never sell her 
—he knew what stock she came from—but would 


238 THE ROVING EDITOR 


liberate her when he died. On this promise the rela- 
tor married her, and had several children. Mean- 
while her mother refused any longer to cohabit with 
the bachelor, and, to use the colored man’s phrase, he 
took up with an owt woman—a white woman—but he 
did not marry her. She, also, bore him-several chil- 
dren. On his death, he left the narrator’s wife and 
all her daughters free, but bequeathed her two sons 
—his grand-children—“ to this ont woman,” with the 
proviso that she should sell them to their father if he 
wanted to purchase his (and the testator’s) own flesh 
and blood. The “ out woman,” however, sold them 
to the traders, who handed them over to their father 
in consideration of eighteen hundred dollars, one 
thousand of which had already been paid. 

The old man said he wanted to sell his farm in or- 
der to raise the balance, and to pay some other debts, 
now due, that he had recently incurred. 

I went up to his farm and looked over it. Itis very 
good soil, indeed; commands a beautiful prospect, 
and is cultivated as well as Virginians know how. 

I asked him if there were many Northerners set- 
tled here? ‘Yes,’ he added, “a good many ;” and 
pointed out the farm of one gentleman from New 
Jersey. He said the Northerners, somehow, made 
more money, raised better crops, and worked less to 
do it, than “we Virginians.” Somehow, he thought, 
after they were here awhile, they seemed to get 
anidee of the land, and make it do ’sactly as they 
wanted to. The Northerners didn’t own slaves. 
They said slaves cost too much. You buy one, pay 
a thousand dollars for him ; he goes off, and fights or 


sprees, and the first thing you know your thousand 
dollar ’s dead !” 


IN VIRGINIA. 939 


The old man did not think himself that slave labor 
paid, and believed it would be better for the white 
men, as well as the negro, if slavery was instantly 
and everywhere abolished. 

I was too tired, when I talked with him, to report 
his remarks stenographically, as I generally do. I 
regret it now, for his idiom was exceedingly unique 
and humorous. If Mrs. Partington ever meets him 
she will have to hide her diminished head forever. 


IGNORANCE. 


The ignorance of both the poor whites and blacks 
is almost incredible; even to the traveller who has 
daily and astonishing evidences of it. I have some- 
times asked negroes who have lived near a village all 
their life, if they knew what its population was; and 
they could not understand what population meant 
nor—when explained to them—could they answer 
my question. Like Socrates, they seemed “only to 
know that they knew nothing.” 

I asked an Irish woman and some poor whites, 
where a railroad—which passed by their cabins—ter- 
minated. They could not tell me. It was an uncom- 
pleted line, I afterwards found—this was in Fairfax 
county—which had been stopped for want of funds, 
although intersecting a very fertile region, and run- 
ning into the mining districts. 

“Sir,” said a gentleman in conversation on this 
subject, “if the road to heaven went by their front 
door, they could n’t tell you the way there to 
save themselves from iS 





240 THE ROVING EDITOR 


NEGRO-DRIVING OF HORSES. 


The country is less cultivated—along the turnpike, 
at least—wood is more plentiful, the fields far larger, 
and the scenery less beautiful, the nearer you ap- 
proach to Fauquier county. 

The first place I came to was a hamlet of a dozen 
houses, called Gainesville, on the Manassas Gap Rail- 
road, wliere I asked the price of land of a workman 
in a field close by. Another white man and a negro 
woman were working with him. He said, that in 
this part of the country, land ranged from eight to 
twenty-five dollars an acre, but advised me, if I 
wanted to buy, to go further back into the country. 

‘How many bushels of corn do you raise to an 
acre ?” 

“Well, we don’t average more than three barrels 
—nor that often.” (I ifteen bushels.) 

‘‘ Are there many northern people settled round 
here?” : 

“No, sir. Lots down at Brentsville, though.” 

Let the traveller go to Brentsville, and he will find 
land higher, and crops more abundant there. So 
much for free labor. 

It began to rain heavily, and I was induced to 
hasten my steps. 

I soon overtook a wagon drawn by six horses, and 
driven by anegro. I never saw such a wagon in my 
life before. It was twenty feet long, broad and very 
deep. It was covered with a sailcloth, which partly 
protected it, and was higher at both ends than at the 
middle. 

I got into the wagon first, and then into a talk 
with the negro. 


IN VIRGINIA. 941 


In Fauquier county, he informed me, “most all 
de farms was big again as in Prince William; most 
on them was seven, eight or nine hundred acres.” 

His master holds eighteen slaves. ‘Our farm,” 
as he proudly styled his master’s plantation, “ had 
seven hundred acres. They raised four or five hun- 
dred barrels of corn and two thousand bushels of 
wheat last year. Farms,” he said, “were getting 
very high in ole Fauquer county. Mass’r bought 
forty acre las’ year and he paid forty dollars an 
acre.” 

He rode the near horse, and held a heavy cowhide 
in his hand, with which, from time to time, he lashed 
the leaders, as barbarous drivers lash oxen when at 
work. Whenever we came to a hill, especially if it 
was very steep, he dismounted, lashed the horses 
with all his strength, varying his performances by 
picking up stones, none of them smaller than half a 
brick, and throwing them with all his force, at the 
horses’ legs. He seldom missed. 

The wagon was laden with two tons of plaster in 
sacks. 

This is a fair specimen of the style in which slaves 
treat stock. 

Thus it is that wrong begets wrong, and that injus- 
tice is unprofitable as well as unrighteous. 

The wagon turned off the turnpike about three 
miles from Warrenton. We had passed through 
two or three hamlets—New Baltimore and Buckland 
I remember—but they did not afford anything 
worthy of notice. . 

I walked, through a drenching rain, to Warrenton, 
which is a pleasant country village. In entering it, I 
asked for the best hotel.. I was directed down the 

11 


QAP, THE ROVING EDITOR 


street. On looking up at the swinging sign, I read, 
with astonishment, this horrible announcement, 
equally laconic as impious and improper: 


| WARREN 


GREEN 
H E L. 





Nothing daunted, I ventured, with perfect reck- 
lessness—or in the spirit of the Six Hundred of Bala- 
klava—into the very mouth—the open door-way—of 
this terrestrial “HEL.” Astonished to find a room 
in it without a jive, I instantly ordered one, “ regard- 
less of consequences.” And here I am, for once, in a 
very snug old room, with a blazing wood fire, as 
comfortable as a Boston traveller can be, at so great 
a distance from the old folks to hum and the melli- 
fluous nasal melody of New England pronunciation. 


Ricumonyn, May 23.—Warrenton is a pleasant lit- 
tle village, situated in the centre of Fauquier county. 
I arrived there late in the afternoon, tired, drenched 
and muddy, and left by the early train on the follow- 
ing morning. It was still raining when I took my 
departure ; so | had no time to collect statistics of 
the price of land, or any incidents of social life and 
country customs. I had a talk with a Virginian at 
the hotel on politics, and Eli Thayer’s scheme of 
colonization. He said that in Eastern Virginia, in 
consequence of the tactics of politicians and the igno- 
rance of the country editors—who took for granted 





IN VIRGINIA. 943 


whatever figures or opinions their leaders advanced— 
Mr. Thayer would probably meet with resistance at 
the outset; but, in Western Virginia, where slavery 
was weak, and a free soil feeling had long been pre- 
dominant, he would be welcomed, he believed, with 
open arms, and realize his most sanguine hopes of 
pecuniary success, if the affairs of the organization 
should be managed by shrewd and experienced busi- 
ness men. 

He said that white labor was becoming so scarce 
and high, that every emigration from the North was 
felt to be a blessing to the State. In the present 
canvass, he added, candidates were openly advocat- 
ing the repeal of the law of expatriation against free- 
men of color. This was done, I gleaned, from no 
sense of justice, but owing solely to the scarcity of 
labor. 

We waited at the junction nearly half an hour 
before the train from Alexandria came up. When I 
entered these cars, I found myself entirely blockaded, 
on every side, with gentlemen in black suits and 
snowy white cravats. It was a delegation of clergy- . 
men to a Denominational Convention. ‘“ A man is 
known by the company he keeps.” Fearing to be 
mistaken for a wolf in lamb’s clothing—in other 
words, for a pro-slavery divine—I got out at Gor- 
donstown, and went on to Charlottesville; instead, as 
I intended, of going to Richmond, by the nearest 
route and in the quickest time. 


, CHARLOTTESVILLE. 
An accident detained me at Charlottesville two 
days, It is situated in a charming valley—tertile, 
wooded, watered well—with cultivated hills rising 


944. THE ROVING EDITOR. 


from the plain, and snow-capped misty mountains 
in the western background. ‘The village, too, is the 
prettiest, it is said, and one of the most. thriving in 
Virginia. The College founded by Jefferson is situ- 
ated there. It rained almost incessantly all the time 
Iwas there. The soil is exclusively a red stiff clay, 
which, when the rain subsided for an hour, rendered 
walking exceedingly unpleasant to attempt, and im- 
possible when tried. 

Yesterday I left the village for Richmond—dis- 
tance, about ninety miles. The fare is four dollars, 
and the time six hours. We passed miles adjoining 
miles of worn out land, producing only hedge broom, 
stunted shrubbery and grass, when, by scientific 
culture and a little labor, it might be heavy with 
tobacco or the cereal grains. There is a great field 
open here for Northern intelligence and Northern 
industry. 


a 


Nel. 


RICHMOND. 


Ricumonp, J/ay 24.—Charleston excepted, and 
also, perhaps, Montgomery in Alabama, “ Rome- 
hilled Richmond” is the most charming in situation 
or in outside aspect, of all the Southern cities that I 
have ever visited. 

It is a city of over 20,000 inhabitants—the politi- 
eal, commercial, and social metropolis of the State— 
well laid out, beautifully shaded, studded with little 
gardens—has several factories, good hotels, a multi- 
plicity of churches, a theatre, five daily papers, a 
great number of aristocratic streets, with large, fashion- 
able, but not sumptuous residences; and, to crown 
all, and over and above all, it has four or five negro 
pens and negro auction-rooms. 


A SLAVE SALE. 


I saw a slave sale to-day. The advertisement sub- 
joined, announcing it, appeared in the Léichmond 
Enquirer and Leichmond Examiner. 


AUCTION SALES. 


THIS DAY. 
BY DICKINSON, HILL & CO., Auctioneers. 





1 NEGROES.—Will be sold by us, this morning at 10 
o'clock, 10 likely negroes. 
may 24 DICKINSON, HILL & CO, Aucts. 


245 


246 TUE ROVING EDITOR 


AUCTION SALES. 


BY PULLIAM & DAVIS, Auctioneers. 





NEGROES.--This day, at 10 o’clock, we will sell 8 likely 
negroes, Men, Boys, and Girls. 
may 24. PULLIAM & DAVIS, Aucts. 











Dickinson, Hill & Company, body-sellers and body- 
buyers, “subject only to the Constitution,” carry on 
their nefarious business in Wall street—I believe its 
name is—within pistol shot of the capitol of Virginia 
and its executive mansion. Near their auction-room, 
on the opposite side of the street, is the office of 
another person engaged in the same inhuman traffic, 
who has painted, in bold Roman letters, on a sign- 
board over the door: 

E. A. G. CLOPTON, 
AGENT, 


For Hiring Out Negroes, 
AND 


Renting Out Houses. 


Both negroes and houses, by the laws of Virginia, 
are “held, adjudged and reputed” to be property! 
This is Southern Democracy ! 

At ten o’clock there was a crowd of men around 
the door of the auction-room, but it was nearly eleven 
when a mulatto man came out, and vociferously 
shouted—“ This way, gentlemen, this way—sale’s 
’bout to begin—sale’s *bout to begin—gentlemen 
wishin’ to buy, please step into the room inside.” 

I entered the auction-room, It is a long, damp, 





IN VIRGINIA. 247 


dirty-looking room, with a low, rough-timbered ceil- 
ing, and supported, in the centre, by two wooden 
pillars, square, filthy, rough-hewed, and, I assure 
you, not a little whittled. At the further end of it, 
a small apartment was partitioned off, with unpainted 
pine boards, and the breadth which it did not cover 
was used as a counting-room, divided from the larger 
one by a blue painted paling. 

The walls of the auction-room were profusely deco- 
rated with tobacco stains, which, by their form, num- 
ber and variety, indicated that they had been hastily 
ejected from the human mouth—sometimes, by poets, 
styled divine. Handbills, which plainly showed that 
—“Negro clothing,” ‘Servants’ wear,” “ Negro 
blankets,” and other articles of servile apparel, were 
for sale by various merchants in town, served, with 
the tobacco stains, to render the walls exceedingly 
attractive to a Northern eye. Jtough, and roughly 
used pine forms extended around the room, and 
partly into the body of it, too. In the centre, four 
steps high, is a platform—a Southern platform, a 
Democratic platform, a State Rights platform—where 
men, women, children, and unweaned babes are daily 
sold, by Dickinson, Hill & Co., “for cash,” or “on 

time,” to the highest bidder. 
- Tsaw a number of men enter the inner room, and 
quietly followed them, unnoticed. The slaves—the 
males—were there. What do you think, my conser- 
vative reader, is the object of the little room? Iwill 
tell you what was done. The slaves were stripped 
naked, and carefully examined, as horses are—every 
part of their body, from their crown to their feet, 
was rigorously scrutinized by the gallant chivalry 
who intended to buy them. I saw one unfortunate 


948 THE ROVING EDITOR 


slave examined in this way, but did not care to see 
the mean, cowardly and disgusting act performed on 
any other. 

After a time they were brought out. The auction- 
eer—a short, thick-set, gross-eyed, dark, and fleshy 
fellow—who was dressed in black, opened the sale 
by offering a boy of twelve or fourteen years of 
ace. 

“‘Gentlemen,’—he said, in accents that seemed to 
be very greasy—“I offer you this boy; he is sound 
and healthy, and title warranted good—What @ ye 
offer, gentlemen ?” 

“Hight hundred dollars.” 

“Kight hundred dollars bid—eight hundred dol- 
lars“(he talked very fast)—‘eight hundred dollars— 
eight hundred dollars—eight hundred and fifty— 
thank you—eight hundred and fifty dollars bid— 
eight” — 

* Nine hundred.” 

“¢ Nine hundred dollars bid—nine hundred dollars 
—nine hundred dollars—nine hundred dollars—gen- 
tlemen, he’s a first-rate boy”— 

“Come down here,” said the mulatto, who is Dick- 
inson’s slave, I believe, ‘“ come down.” 

The boy came down. 

“Please stand out of the way, gentlemen,” cried 
the mulatto, to a number of men who stood between 
the platform and the counting-room. 

They did so. 

“ Now you walk along to the wall,” said the slave 
to the other article of commerce—‘ now hold up 
your head and walk pert.” 

The boy did as he was directed. 

“ Quick—come—pert—only there already ?— 


IN VIRGINIA. 949 


pert!” jerked out the mulatto, to hasten the boy’s 
steps. 

The crowd looked on attentively, especially those 
who had bid. He mounted the President—I mean 
the platform—again, and the bidding was resumed 
with greater activity. 

“Well, gentlemen,” said the body-seller, “ you see 
he’s a likely boy—how much do you bid?” 

“Ten,” said a voice. 

“Nine hundred and ten dollars bid—nine hundred 
and ten—nine hundred and ten—nine hundred and 
TEN—nine hundred and ten—nine hundred and ten 
dollars bid—nine hundred and ten”— 

“Twenty.” 

‘Nine hundred and twenty dollars bid—nine hun- 
dred and twenty dollars—nine Turrry—nine hundred 
and thirty dollars—nine hundred and rorry—nine 
forty ’s bid—nine hundred and forty dollars—nine 
forty—nine forty—nine rirry—nine fifty—nine hun- 
dred and fifty—nine hundred and fifty—nine hun- 
dred and fifty—nine hundred and fifty—nine hund- 
dred and fifty dollars—nine hundred and sixty— 
nine hundred and sixty dollars.” 

“Seventy,” said a voice. 

“ Nine hundred and seventy dollars—nine hundred 
and seventy dollars” 

“ Five.” 

“ Nine hundred and seventy-five dollars,” said the 
auctioneer. 

“He’s an uncommon likely boy,” chimed the auc- 
tioneer’s mulatto. 

A chivalrous Virginian mounted the steps of the 
platform. “Open your mouth,” hesaid. The Article 

11* 





950 THE ROVING EDITOR 


opened its mouth, and displayed a beautiful, pearly 
set of teeth. 

“You all sound ?” asked the white. 

“Yes, massa,” said the boy. 

‘Nine eighty,” said the white. 

“Five,” said another, who stood beside him. 

“ Ninety,” said the other white. 

“Nine hundred and ninety,” exclaimed the auc- 
tioneer—“‘nine hundred and ninety dollars—nine 
hundred and ninety dollars ” | 

“‘D—n it,” said a man at my side, “ how niggers 
has riz.” 

“Yes, sir,’ said his old white-haired companion, 
“I tell you, if a man buys niggers now, he has to 
pay for them. That’s about the amount of it.” 

‘Nine hundred and ninety dollars—all done at 
nine hundred and ninety dollars?—nine hundred— 
and—nine-ty dollars—go-ing at nine—hundred and 
nine-ty dollars—and—gone—if no one bids—nine 
hundred and ninety dollars—once—nine hundred 
and. ninety, a-n-d” 

He looked round and round in every direction, but 
no one moved, and he plaintively added— 

“ Gone!” : 

This boy was one of those unfortunate children who 
neber was born, but are raised by the speculators, or 
are the offspring of illicit connections between the 
Saxon and African races. He was of a brown com- 
plexion—about one-third white blood. He was 
dressed in‘a small check calico trowsers, and a jac- 
ket of a grey color. The whole suit would not cost 
more than three dollars; but it was new, clean and 
looked very tidy. 

The next Article disposed of was a young man, of 











IN VIRGINIA. 951 


similar complexion, twenty years old, muscular, 
with an energetic and intelligent expression. One 
thousand dollars was the first bid made. He was 
sold to “Jones & Slater,” who are forwarding agents, 
I was told, of animated merchandise to New Orleans. 
I hunted up their office after I left the auction-room. 
It was shut. It is situated in the congenial neighbor- 
hood of a cluster of disreputable houses. 

The third article offered was a very black, low- 
browed, short, brutal-looking negro, for whom nine 
hundred dollars only was bid. He wasnot sold. So 
also with several others. 

A woman, with a child at her breast, and a 
daughter, seven years old, or thereabouts, at her side, 
mounted the steps of the platform. 

The other sales did not excite my indignation more 
than the description of such a scene would have done; 
certainly—had I never visited a slave auction-room 
before—a great deal less than some narratives would 
have done. These men and boy were too brutal in 
their natures to arouse my sympathies. Besides, they 
were men, and could escape by death or flight, or 
insurrection; and it is a man’s duty, I hold—every 
man’s duty—to be free at every hazard or by any 
means. 

But the poor black mother—with her nearly white 
babe—with the anxiety of an uncertain future among 
brutal men before her—and the young girl, too, now 
so innocent, but: predestined by the nature of slavery 
to a life of hard labor and involuntary prostitution— 
I would have been either less than a man, or more, 
ta haye looked on stoically or with indifference, as 
she and her little ones were sold. 

Twelve hundred and fifty dollars were bid for her, 


952, THE ROVING EDITOR 


but she was not sold. She was worth, a Virginian told 
me, “fifteen hundred dollars of any man’s money.” 
I don’t doubt it. The Christian Theology tells us 
that she was once, vile and lowly as she may be, 
deemed worthy of an infinitely greater price than 
that. She was “ warranted sound and healthy,” with 
the exception of a female complaint, to which mothers 
are occasionally subject, the name and nature of 
which was unblushingly stated. 

She was taken into the inner room, after the bid- 
ding commenced, and there indecently “ examumed” 
in the presence of a dozen or fifteen brutal men. I 
did not go in, but was told, by a spectator, coolly, 
that “they ’d examined her,” and the brutal remarks 
and licentious looks of the creatures when they came 
out, was evidence enough that he had spoken the 
truth. 

The mother’s breast heaved, and her eye anxiously 
wandered from one bidder to another, as the sale was 
going on. She seemed relieved when it was over— 
but it was only the heart-aching relief of suspense. 

A young girl, of twenty years or thereabouts, was 
the next commodity put up. Her right hand was 
entirely useless—“ dead,” as she aptly called it. One 
finger had been cut off by a doctor, and the auction- 
eer stated that she herself chopped off the other 
finger—her forefinger—because it hurt her, and she 
thought that to cut it off would cure it. This remark 
raised a laugh among the crowd. I looked at her, 
and expected to see a stupid-looking creature, low- 
browed and sensual in appearance; but was sur- 
prised, instead, to see a woman with an eye which 
reminded me of Margaret Gardiner (whom I visited 
in Cincinnati), but more resolute, intelligent and im- 


IN VIRGINIA. 958 


pulsive. She was perfectly black; but her eye was 
Saxon, if by Saxon we mean a hell-defying courage, 
which neither death nor the devil can terrify. It 
was an eye that will never die in a slave’s socket, or 
never die a natural death in so unworthy an abode. 

“Didn't you cut your finger off,” asked a man, 
“ kase you was mad ?” 

She looked at him quietly, but with a glance of 
contempt, and said : 

*‘ No, you see it was a sort o’ sore, and I thought 
it would be better to cut it off than be plagued 
with it.” 

Several persons around me expressed the opinion 
that she had done it willfully, “to spite her master 
or mistress, or to keep her from being sold down 
South.” 

I do not doubt it. 

A heroic act of this kind was once publicly per- 
formed, many years ago, in the city of St. Louis. It 
was witnessed by gentlemen still living there, one of 
whom—now an ardent Emancipationist —narrated 
the circumstance to me. 

These scenes occurred, not in Russia or Austria, or 
in avowedly despotic countries, but in the United 
States of America, which we are so fond of eulogiz- 
ing as the chosen land of liberty! 

Lierty! 

“Oh Liberty! what outrages are committed in 
thy name!” 

These verses, penned in Richmond after a slave 
sale, by a personal friend of the present writer, 
although bitter, sectional, and fanatical, when viewed 
from a conservative position, more faithfully and 
graphically than any poetry that I have ever read, 


254 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


express the feelings of a man of compassionate 
and impulsive nature, when witnessing such wicked 
and revolting commercial transactions as the public 
auction of immortal human beings: 


A CURSE ON VIRGINIA. 


Curses on you, foul Virginia, 
Stony-hearted whore ! 
May the plagues that swept o’er Egypt— 
Seven—and seventy more, 
Desolate your homes and hearths, 
Devastate your fields, 
Send ten deaths for every pang-birth 
Womb of wife or creature yields: 
May fever gaunt, 
Protracted want, 
Hurl your sons beneath the sod, 
Send your bondmen back to God! 
From your own cup, 
Soon may you sup, 
The bitter draught you give to others— 
Your negro sons and negro brothers! 
Soon may they rise, 
As did your sires, 
And light up fires, 
Which not by Wise, 
Nor any despot shall be quenched; 
Not till Black Samson, dumb and bound, 
Shall raze each slave-pen to the ground, 
Till States with slavers’ blood are drenched. 


Pew AN CTOUM. 





I. 


GENERAL RESULTS. 


I pm not originally visit the Slave States for the 
purpose of writing a book. Hence the preceding 
notes of travel are much less minute than they would 
otherwise have been made. Ishall make yet another 
journey South—Down the Mississippr ; which (if the 
sale of this volume shall warrant it) I shall narrate at 
much greater length, and make more comprehensive 
and various—relating as well the effects of slavery 
on agriculture, trade and education, as on the morals 
of the subjugated people, and the humanity of the 
ruling race. 

Let me here subjoin the general results and mis- 
cellaneous incidents of my travels and conversations, 
without any especial regard to rhetorical order ox 
intrinsic importance of topic. 

I. I do not believe that the progress of physical 
science, the extension of railroads, or the exhausting 
effects of involuntary labor, will ever induce or com- 


pel the peaceful abolition of American slavery. 
255 


256 THE ROVING EDITOR 


Worn out lands will be recuperated by scientific 
skill, by guano, rotation of crops, the steam plough, 
and the knowledge—now rapidly diffusing—of agri- 
cultural chemistry. Railroads raise both the price 
and value of slave labor, by rapidly conveying the 
rural products of it, to the Northern and European 
markets. Slave labor, although detrimental to the 
State, is profitable to the individual holders of human 
“property.” Hence, this powerful class of criminals 
will ever oppose its speedy extinction. I do not be- 
lieve, also, that—unless conducted on a gigantic 
scale—the emigration of free white laborers will 
ever extinguish slavery in any Southern State. I 
except Missouri, where the active interference of the 
abolitionists would undoubtedly prolong the exist- 
ence of bondage; but where, owing to its peculiar 
geographical position, slavery will soon be drowned 
by “the advancing and increasing tide of Northern 
emigration.” Neither will the mere prevention of 
the extension of slavery kill it. Within its present 
limits, it may live a thousand years. There is land 
enough to support the present races, and their in- 
crease, for that length of time there. Unless we 
strike a blow for the slaves—as Lafayette and his 
Frenchmen did for the revolutionary sires—or unless 
they strike a blow for themselves, as the negroes of 
Jamaica and Hayti, to their immortal honor, did— 
American slavery has a long and devastating future 
before it, in which, by the stern necessities of its 
nature, Freedom or the Union must crouch and die 
beneath its potent sceptre of death and desolation. 
Il. The field negroes, as a class, are coarse, filthy, 
brutal, and lascivious; liars, parasites, hypocrites, 
and thieves; without self-respect, religious aspira- 





IN HIS SANCTUM. O57 


tions, or the nobler traits which characterize human- 
ity. They are almost as degraded intellectually as 
the lower hordes of inland Irish, or the indolent 
semi-civilized North American Indians; or the less 
than human white-skinned vermin who fester in the 
Five Points cellars, the North street saloons, or the 
dancing houses and levee of New Orleans or Charles- 
ton. Not so vile, however, as the rabble of the 
Platte Region, who distinguished themselves as the 
champions of the South in Kansas. Morally, they 
are on a level with the whites around them. The 
slaveholder steals their labor, rights and children; 
they steal his chickens, hogs and vegetables. They 
often must lie, or submit to be whipped. ‘Truth, at 
such a price—they seem to think—s far too precious 
to be wasted on white folks. They are necessarily 
extremely filthy; for their cabins are dirty, small 
and uncomfortable; and they have neither the time 
' nor the conveniences to keep them clean. Working 
from morn till night in the fields, at the hardest of 
hard labor, under a sultry sun, is quite enough for 
the poor women to do—especially as they have also to 
cook their provisions—without spending their leisure 
hours in “tidying up” their miserable and unhome- 
like huts. The laws forbidding the acquisition of 
knowledge, and the fact that slavery and intelligence 
are incompatible, keep them, as nearly as possible, as 
ignorant and degraded as the quadrupeds of the fields. 
Chastity is a virtue which, in the South, is entirely 
monopolized by the ladies of the ruling race. very 
slave negressisacourtesan. Except one per cent. of 
them, and you make ample deduction. I have talked 
on this subject with hundreds of young men in differ- 
ent Southern cities, and the result of my observatious 


958 THE ROVING EDITOR 


and infvrmation, is a firmly settled conviction that 
not one per cent. of the native male whites in the 
South arrive at the age of manhood morally uncon- 
taminated by the influences of slavery. I do not 
believe that ten per cent. of the native white males 
reach the age of fourteen without carnal knowledge 
of the slaves. Married men are not one whit better 
than their bachelor brethren. A Southern lady 
bears testimony to this fact: 


“This subject demands the attention, not only of the reli- 
gious population, but of statesmen and law-makers. It is one 
great evil hanging over the Southern Slave States, destroying 
domestic happiness, and the peace of thousands. It is summed 
up in a single word—amalgamation. This, and this only, causes 
the vast extent of ignorance, degradation and crime, that lies like 
a black cloud over the whole South. And the practice is more 
general than even the Southerners are willing to allow. Neither 
is it to be found only in the lower order of the white popula- 
tion. It pervades the entire society. Its followers are to be 
fonnd among all ranks, occupations and professions. The white 
mothers and daughters of the South have suffered under it for 
years—have seen their dearest affections trampled upon—their 
hopes of domestic happiness destroyed, and their future lives 
embittered, even to agony, by those who should be all in all to 
them, as husbands, sons, and brothers. I cannot use too strong 
language in reference to this subject, for I know that it will 
meet with a heartfelt response from every Southern woman.” 


This lady is Mrs. Douglas, a native of Virginia, 
and a pro-slavery woman, who was imprisoned in a 
common jail at Norfolk, for the heinous crime of 
teaching free colored children to reap tHE Worp 
or Gop! At the time of the Revolution, pure blacks 
were everywhere to be seen; now they are becom- 
ing, year by year, more and more uncommon. Where 
do they go to? The white boys know—the census 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 259 


of mulattoes tells! I suppose it is indecorous to 
speak so plainly on so delicate a subject; but if the 
report is revolting, how much more appaling must 
be the crime itself? 

I have given instances enough to show that decep- 
tion is the natural result of slavery. Of course, as 
the slaves are entirely at the mercy of the whites, 
they are forced to be parasites and hypocrites in 
their intercourse with them. And how can the poor 
people have self-respect? “I’se only a nigger” is 
the first note they are taught in the sad funereal dirge 
of their existence. It is repeated in ten thousand 
forms, and in every variety of method, from the time 
they are born till they draw their last breath. How 
can they respect themselves, when they know that 
their mothers are ranked with the beasts that perish 
-—sold, exchanged, bought, forced to beget children, 
as cows and sheep are bartered and reared for breed- 
ing purposes ? 

As for the religious negroes—“ the pious slaves ”— 
I have no patience with the blasphemous and infer- 
nal ingenuity which breeds and preserves these un- 
fortunate creatures. Dr. Johnson praised the youth, 
who, having seduced a young girl in a fit of animal 
excitement, on being asked by her, after the fact, 
“ Have we not done wrong?’ promptly replied, 
“Yes.” “For,” he said, “although I ravished her 
body, I was not so bad as to wish to ravish her mind.” 
Our slavemasters are not so generous. The perpe- 
trators of the most tyrannical despotism that the 
world ever saw, still, not content with degrading the 
body of their bondmen into real estate, they seek, 
by the same priestly machinery that other tyrants 
have found so effective, to enslave their souls also— 


260 THE ROVING EDITOR 


a task which they try to make the more easy by the 
ignorance in which they assiduously keep them. I 
have investigated the character of too many of the 
“pious negroes,” to feel any respect either for their 
religion or their teachers. Church membership does 
not prevent fornication, bigamy, adultery, lying, 
theft, or hypocrisy. It is a cloak, in nine cases out 
of ten, which the slaves find convenient to wear ; and, 
in the excepted case, it is a union of meaningless 
cant and the wildest fanaticism. A single spark of 
true Christianity among the slave population would 
set the plantations in a blaze. Christianity and sla- 
very cannot live together; but churchianity and sla- 
very are twins. 

That slavery alone is responsible for the peculiar 
vices of the plantation negroes, the condition and 
character of the city bondmen attest. Wherever you 
find a negro in the Southern cities who has had the 
chance to acquire knowledge, either from reading by 
stealth, or from imitation, or the society of an edu- 
cated class, you will find, in a majority of instances, 
the moral equal—often the superior—of the white 
man of the same social rank and educational oppor- 
tunities. In manners, the city slaves are the Count 
D’Orsays of the South. 

II. Slave preachers are usually men of pliant and 
hypocritical character—men who are easily used by 
the ruling race as whate-chokered chains. The more 
obsequious that they are—the more treacherous to 
their own aspirations—the more they are flattered 
and esteemed by the tyrants whose work they do. I 
attended a colored church at Savannah. The subject 
of discourse was the death of John the Baptist : 

“ Bredren, de ’vang’list does not tell us ’bout an- 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 261 


oder circumstance *bout de text, but de legions ob 
de church has unformed us. When Herodeyus got 
hold ob de plate dat da put de head ob John de 
Baptis’ in, she war so mad at him, de legions tell us, 
dat she tuk a handful ob pins and stuck ’em in de 
tongue ob de Apostle! Ah ”—— 

The preacher, from whose discourse I selected this 
remarkable biblical information, was a great favorite 
with the white population, who (if I mistake not) 
addressed him as a Doctor of Divinity. When he 
died I read a paragraph from a Savannah paper, in 
which his virtues and learning were eulogized! 

IV. At Augusta, Georgia, I knew a boy of between 
sixteen and seventeen years of age, who supported a 
mulatto girl mistress. Her mother was a free 
woman, and the daughter was about his own age. 
He took up a peck of meal to their house, and some 
bacon, every Saturday night, and for this weekly al- 
lowance he was permitted, as frequently as he pleased, 
to cohabit with the girl. The pernicious effect of 
slavery on children I have frequently heard parents 
lament. And yet these same parents would favor 
the extension of slavery into virgin territories ! 

VY. The poor whites suffer greatly from the exist- 
ence of slavery. They are deprived by it of the most 
remunerative employment, and excluded from the 
most fertile lands. I once heard a poor Alabama 
farmer lament that he would soon have to move, as 
they were beginning to “close him in again.” I 
asked what he meant? He said that, years and 
years ago, he and several of his poor neighbors had 
moved far away into the wilderness, in order to be 
out of and beyond the influence of slavery. They 
had selected a spot where they thought they would 


262 THE ROVING EDITOR 


be secure ; but the accounts of the extraordinary fer- 
tility of the soil soon brought the wealthy slavehold- 
ers to their paradise. They bought up immense 
tracts of land bordering on the poor men’s farms, 
which, one by one, they soon managed to possess. 
‘Sickness, bad seasons, poor harvests, and improvi- 
dence, and other causes, soon compelled or induced 
the petty farmers to borrow from their wealthy neigh- 
bors, who, knowing the result, were ever willing to 
lend. All had gone now, excepting him. “ But,” 
he said, “ you see they have bought all around me; 
my only way of getting to the road is by the side of 
that marsh, and in wet weather I can’t take a team 
‘out there. The laws give me the right of buying a 
passage out through ’*s plantation; but he 
wants my land, and would charge so high a rent for 
the passage that I could not afford to pay it.” (In 
Alabama and most Southern States, the land is not 
laid out as in many of the Northern and the Western 
States—multiplication-table fashion; the roads are 
crooked, the farms irregular in size as In extent, and 
the whole arrangement of roads is entirely different.) 
*“* Again,” the farmer said, “ I am feeding his niggers. 
They steal my chickens and eggs and vegetables. I 
complained to the overseer about it: ‘ D—n it, he 
said, ‘ shoot them—we won’t complain.’” But then, 
if he shot them, he would have to pay their market 
value ; and, besides, he had been hungry himself 
often, and had not the heart to interfere with the 
poor starving slaves. He was soon obliged to sell 
out. I met him in Doniphan county, Kansas. He 
is a Republican now, and thanks God for the oppor- 
tunity of belonging to an open anti-slavery party. 
The accounts often published of the condition of the 





IN HIS SANCTUM. 263 


poor whites of the South are not exaggerated, and 
could not well be. There is more pauperism at the 
South than at the North: in spite of the philosophy 
of the Southern socialists, who claim that slavery 
prevents that unfortunate condition of free society. 
So, also, although Stringfellow claims that black 
prostitution prevents white harlotry, there are as 
many, or more, public courtesans of the dominant 
race, in the Southern cities I have visited, than in 
Northern towns of similar population. Slavery pre- 
vents no old evils, but breeds a host of new ones. 
The poor whites, as a class, are extremely illiterate, 
ruffianly, and superstitious. 

VI. No complaints are ever made of the indolence 
or incapacity of the negroes, when they are stimu- 
lated by the hopes of wages or of prerogatives which 
can only be obtained in the South by hard work. It 
is the slave, not the negro, that is “lazy and clumsy.” 

VII. Overseers are generally men of the lowest 
character, although I have met with some, the man- 
agers of extensive estates, who were men of culture 
and ability. Yet these few instances are hardly 
exceptions, as such men employ subordinates to do 
the grosser work. I have often been told that over- 
seers are frequently hired with special reference to 
their robust physical condition ; and this told not in 
jest, as to a Northerner, but in conversation between 
wealthy slaveholders, who, for aught they knew, sup- 
posed me to be a Southerner and a friend of their 
“peculiar” or “sectional” crime. The Southern 
Agriculturist, published at Charleston, South Caro- 
lina, thus faithfully describes this class of persons: 


“Overseers are changed every year; a few remain four or 
five years; but the average length of time they remain on the 


264 THE ROVING EDITOR 


same plantation will not exceed two years. They are taken 
from the lowest grade of society, and seldom have the privilege 
of a religious education, and have no fear of offending God, and 
consequently no check on their natural propensities; they give 
way to passion, intemperance, and every sin, and become sav- 
ages in their conduct.”—Vol. IV., p. 351. 


VIII. Such, by the confession of the Southerners 
themselves, being a faithful description of the char- 
acter of overseers, is it necessary to produce negro 
testimony to prove that cruelty and crime are of fre- 
quent occurrence on the large plantations? The 
negro is entirely in the power and at the mercy of 
our race. Supposing—to take an extreme case by 
way of illustration—a planter or overseer, in the pre- 
sence of five hundred negroes, was to arrest a slave, 
tie him hand and foot, and cut him to pieces, inch by 
inch, no legal punishment could reach him, and no 
legal body investigate the crime, unless a white man 
was a witness of the barbarity. The laws refuse to ac- 
cept negro evidence in any case, whether it be against 
or in favor of a white man. Judge Lynch, alone, of 
all Southern jurists, relaxes this rule; and that only 
in the case of abolitionists! This fact effectually 
destroys the efficacy of all the laws—few in number 
as they are—which have been passed in some States for 
the protection of the bondmen. Whipping women, 
beating boys with clubs—innumerable cruel and 
unusual punishments—are circumstances of daily 
occurrence in every Southern State. 

IX. I heard a planter one day sneering at the 
ladies who advocated woman’s rights. He was 
shocked that women should attempt to go out of 
their sphere. On his plantation, near Savannah, I 
saw women filling dung carts, hocing, driving oxen, 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 265 


ploughing, and engaged in many other similar employ- 
ments. Is it within woman’s sphere to perform such 
labors ? 

X. One of the proprietors of the Montgomery 
(Alabama) J/ail, at the period of my visit to that 
town, described to me the execution by a mob of a 
negro by jure at the stake. He had either killed a 
white man or ravished a white girl—I have since for- 
gotten which—but one sentence of his-account, for 
its characteristic Southern inhumanity to the negro, 
I shall never forget to my dying day. “They piled 
pretty green wood on the fire, to make it burn slow ; 
he gave one terrible yell before he died; and, every 
time the wind blew from him, there was the d dest 
stench of burnt flesh. D n it, how it did smell.” 
This was said, laughingly. Several well authenticated 
cases of the same fiendish torture have occurred 
within the last five years. Parson Brownlow, as I 
have already stated, eulogized the barbarity in one 
instance. 7 | 

XI. As against whites, in courts of justice, the 
negro. has not the faintest chance of fairness. I 
could illustrate this statement by citing examples ; 
but, as a South Carolina Governor has confessed the 
fact, it will suffice to quote his admission. Says 
Governor Adams in his message for 1855: 








“The administration of our laws, in relation to our colored 
population, by our courts of magistrates and freeholders, as 
these courts are at present constituted, calls loudly for reform. 
Their decisions are RARELY in conformity with justice or hu- 
manity. I have felt constrained, in a@ majority of the cases 
brought to my notice, either to modify the sentence, or set it 
aside altogether.” 


XI. Colonel Benton, in a lecture that he delivered 
12 


266 THE ROVING EDITOR 


in Boston, had the audacity to assert that slaves are 
seldom sold by their masters, ewcepting for debt or faults, 
-or crimes. Granting, for the sake of argument, the 
truth of this falsehood, these exceptions are sufficient 
grounds, I think, for the overthrow of slavery at any 
cost. Debts are so common, among the unthrifty 
Southrons, that this cause alone must separate hun- 
dreds of families every year. The sale of one slave 
mother, in my view, is enough to justify the slaughter 
of arace. Much more, then, the separation of thou- 
sands. ‘ Faults!” great heavens! supposing that 
every white Virginian, who has “faults,” was to be 
sold by public auction—where would the slavehold- 
ers, the first families, and the future Presidents be? 
Not in free homes, I know. ‘Crimes!’ Does the 
reader know that, by the laws of Virginia, if a slave 
commits a capital offence, he may be pardoned by 
being sold out of the State—the owner of him pocket- 
ing the proceeds of the auction? But statistics 
refute Colonel Benton’s statement. It is capable of 
demonstration that twenty-five thousand negroes are 
annually sold from the Northern or slave-breeding 
8 the Southern, or 4avebuying Slave States. See 
‘Chage and Sanborn’s “North and South,” and the 
Ptibor ties they cite. I have seen families separated 
and sold to different masters in Virginia; I have 
spoken with hundreds of slaves in the Carolinas, who 
were sold, they told me, from their wives and children 
in the same inhuman State; and I have seen slave-pens 
and slave-cars filled with the unhappy victims of this 
internal and infernal trade, who were travelling for 
the city of New Orleans; where, also, I have wit- 
nessed at least a score of public negro auctions. 
Everybody who has lived in the seaboard Slave 


"eR 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 267 


States—women, politicians and clergymen excepted 
—well know that to buy or to sell a negro, or breed 
one, is regarded as equally legitimate in point of 
morals with the purchase of a pig, or a horse, or 
an office seeker. 3 

I can corroborate Mr. Olmsted, therefore—(from 
whose book, as this volume was passing through the 
press, I have already made several extracts), and can 
fully indorse him when he says: 

“Tt is denied, with feeling, that slaves are often 
reared, as is supposed by the abolitionists, with the 
intention of selling them to the traders. It appears 
to me evident, however, from the manner in which I 
hear the traffic spoken of incidentally, that the cash 
value of a slave for sale, above the cost of raising it 
from infancy to the age at which it commands the 
highest price, is generally considered among the 
surest elements of a planter’s wealth. Such a nigger 
is worth such a price, and such another is too 
old to learn to pick cotton, and such another will 
bring so much, when it has grown a little more, I 
have frequently heard people say, in the street, or 
the public houses. That a slave woman is commonly 
esteemed least for her laboring qualities, most for 
those qualities which give value to a brood-mare, is, 
also, constantly made apparent. A slaveholder writ- 
ing to me with regard to my cautious statements on 
this subject, made in the Daily Times, says: ‘In 
the States of Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, 
Kentucky, Tennessee and Missouri, as much attention 
is paid to the breeding and growth of negroes as to 
that of horses and mules. Further South, we raise 
them both for use and for market. Planters com- 
mand their girls and women (married or unmarried) 


268 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


to have children; and I have known a great many 
negro girls to be sold off, because they did not have 
children. A breeding woman is worth from one- 
sixth to one-fourtl more than one that does not 
breed.’ ” 

XUI. The lower classes of the Southern States 
hate and affect to despise the negro in exact propor- 
tion to their own intellectual and moral debasement. 

XIV. The assertion that without slave labor, cotton, 
rice and sugar could not be grown in the Southern 
States—that these staples would not and cannot be 
cultivated by white men—that “the choice,” to use 
the language of Senator Douglas, is “between the 
negro and the crocodile,” is utterly without founda- 
tion, and is refuted by facts. There is nothing more 
common in Georgia and Alabama than to see white 
men, and white women too, at work in the fields at 
every hour of the day. Of course, these persons 
belong to the class of “poor white trash.” But, 
granting that the Southern staples would perish with- 
out slavery—what then? Down with the staples, 
rather than criminally cultivate them. Perish the 
products whose roots are watered by inhumanity. 

XV. SLAVERY Is THE SUM OF ALL VILLAINIES. 


i a 


, 


THE INSURRECTION HERO. 


We were talking about slavery, and its probable 
duration, in the office of the Leavenworth Times. 
I expressed my doubts of the eflicacy of political 
action against it, and stated that I was in favor of a 
servile insurrection. I believe I found no one who 
approved of such a scheme of abolition. 

John C. Vaughan was in the room. He told us of 
the terror which such events inspired in Southern 
communities, whenever it was believed that the 
negroes intended to revolt. 

He told the story of Isaac. It made an indelible 
impression on my mind. Subsequently, I desired 
him to furnish me with a written account of the 
death of the heroic slave. 

This chapter is the result. After a preliminary 
word on slave insurrections, Mr. Vaughan proceeds: 


THE STORY OF ISAAC. 


All other perils are understood. Fire upon land, 
or storm at sea, wrapping mortals in a wild or watery 
shroud, may be readily imagined. Pestilence walking 
abroad in the city, making the sultry air noisome and 
heavy, hushing the busy throng, aweing into silence 


heated avarice, and glooming the very haunts of 
269 


270 THE ROVING EDITOR 


civilization as if they were charnel-houses, can be 
quickly understood. But the appalling terror of a 
slave revolt, made instinct with life, and stunning as 
it pervades the community—the undescribed and 
indescribable horror which fills and sways every 
bosom as the word is whispered along the streets, or 
borne quickly from house to house, or speeded by 
fleetest couriers from plantation to plantation—“ an 
insurrection ”—“ an insurrection”—must be fedé and 
seen to be realized. ; 

Nor is this strange. The blackest ills are associated 
with it. Hate, deep and undying, to be gratified— 
revenge, as bitter and fiendish as the heart can feel, 
to be gloated over while indulged—lust, unbridled 
and fierce, to be glutted—death, we know not how 
or where, but death in its basest and most agonizing 
form; or life, dishonored and more horrible than 
most excruciating death—these are the essence of an 
insurrection. Could worse forms of evil be conjured 
up? Can any human actions—the very darkest that 
walk at midnight—excite equal terror? We pity 
slaveholders who are startled by the dread of it, and 
wonder at their want of manhood in exposing the 
gentler sex to this human whirlwind of fury, and 
revenge, and lust and death. 

But to our story. J remember, when a boy, going 
out: one bright day on a hunting excursion, and, on 
returning in the evening, meeting at the bridge, a 
mile or more from the town I lived in, a body of 
armed men. The road turns suddenly, as you ap- 
proach the spot from the south, and is skirted, on 
either side, by deep swamps. I did not see them, 
consequently, until I came directly upon them. 

‘“‘ Where have you been?” was the abrupt question 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 271 


put to me by the captain, without offering the usual 
salutation. 

“J have been hunting,” I replied, “along the 
banks of the river, and up by the old Hermitage.” 

“Did you see or meet any one?” continued my 
questioner, no man else saying a word. 

“No one.” 

“Go home instantly,” he said, imperatively, “ and 
keep up the main road. Do n’t cross over by the 
swamp, or the old ford”—two nearer footpaths to 
the town, skirting heavily timbered land. 

I cannot recollect now whether I had heard before 
of an insurrection. I had not, certainly thought 
much about it, if at all. But I knew, instantly, why 
these armed citizens were at the bridge. The low, 
compressed, yet clear voice of the captain—the 
silence of his men—their audible breathing as they 
waited for my replies to his questions—their military 
order—with sentries in advance—told me all, and I 
experienced a dread which chilled me through; and 
the deepening shade of the forest, under which I had 
so often whistled merrily, served now to add to the 
gloom of the hour. I asked no questions. With 
quickened pace I pushed up the main road, and was 
not long in reaching my father’s house. I wished 
to know the worst, and to help in meeting it. 

I found all alarm at home. Guns were stacked in 
the passage, and men were there ready to use 
them. ‘Two friends were in the parlor informing the 
household of the place of rendezvous for the women 
and children, and the signal which was to be given 
if the town should be fired, or an attack be made 
upon it by the negroes. I inquired and learned 
here the cause and extent of the danger. 


972 THE ROVING EDITOR 


That morning a negro had informed his master 
of the plot, and had represented to him that it 
reached plantations over a hundred miles off, and 
embraced the thickest negro settlements of the 
State. 

The first step taken was to arrest the leaders 
named (some thirty in number) by the informer. 
The second, to inform the town and country of the 
impending danger. Armed patrols were started out 
in every direction. Every avenue to the town was 
guarded, and every house in it made a sort of mili- 
tary fort. The apprehension was, that the plantation 
negroes would rise and sweep all before them with 
fire and sword; and the “ white strength ” was pre- 
pared, in all its force, to meet the contingency. 

The master, if he be kind to his bondmen, is apt to 
believe that they will never turn against him. We 
hear planters say, “I would arm my slaves,” when- 
ever this subject is broached. This is a strong ex- 
pression, and to be received with “grains of allow- 
ance,” as the sequel will illustrate. Yet, boy-like, I 
felt as if no soul in our yard could strike a blow 
against one of the family. I went to the servants’ 
quarter. Not one of them was out—a strange event 
—and not a neighbor’s domestic was in—a still 
stranger circumstance! ‘They were silent as the 
grave. Even “ Mamma,” privileged to say and do 
what she pleased, and who could be heard amid the 
laughter and tongue clatter of the rest, had nothing 
to tell me. I asked a few questions; they were 
simply answered. It was evident that the servants 
were frightened ; they knew not what they feared; 
but they were spell-bound by an undefined dread of 
evil to them and harm to us. Indeed, this was the 


IN HIS SANCTUM. Pars: 


case with the blacks, generally ; and while the ex- 
citement lasted, the patrol did not arrest one slave 
away from his quarters! An honest Irishman re- 
marked at the time, ‘it was hard to tell which was 
most frightened, the whites or the negroes.” 

The proposed revolt, as regards territory, was an 
extended one. It embraced a region having over 
forty thousand male slaves. But the plot was poorly 
arranged, and it was clear that those who planned it 
knew little or nothing of the power they had to meet 
and master. For six months the leaders of it had 
been brooding over their design, and two days before 
its consummation they were in prison and virtually 
doomed as felons. Then seizure arrested the insur- 
rection without bloodshed ; but not without a sacri- 
fice of life! That was demanded by society and the 
law. Thirteen of the negroes arrested were declared 
guilty and hung. They had, according to all notions 
then, a fair trial; lawyers defended them, and did 
their best; an impartial and intelligent jury deter- 
mined their fate; and by the voice of man, not of 
God, this number of human beings was “legally ” 
sent out of existence! 

The leader of the insurrection—Isaac—I knew 
well. He was head man to a family intimate with 
mine. Implicit confidence was placed in him, not 
_ only by his master, but by the minister of the church 
and everybody who knew him. The boys called him 
Uncle Isaac, and the severest patrol would take his 
word and let him go his way. 

He was some forty years old when he first planned 
the revolt. His physical development was fine. He 
was muscular and active—the very man a sculptor 


would select for a model. And yet, with all his great 
12* 


274 THE ROVING EDITOR 


strength, he was kind and affectionate, and simple as 
a woman. He was never tired of doing for others. 
In intellect he was richly gifted; no negro in the 
place could compare with him for clear-headedness 
and nobleness of will. He was born to make a figure, 
and, with equal advantages, would have been the first 
among any throng. He had character : that concen- 
tration of religious, moral, and mental strength, 
which, when possessed by high or low, gives man 
power over his fellows, and imparts life to his acts 
and name. 

His superiority was shown on the trial. It was 
necessary to prove that he was the leader, and coun- 
sel were about taking this step. ‘I am the man,” 
said Isaac. There was no hesitation in his manner— 
no tremulousness in his voice; the words sounded 
naturally, but so clear and distinct that the court and 
audience knew it was so, and it could not have been 
otherwise. An effort was made to persuade him to 
have counsel. His young masters pressed the point. 
The court urged him. Slaveholders were anxious for 
it, not only because they could not help liking his 
bearing, but because they wished to still every voice 
of censure, far or near, by having a fair trial for all. 
But he was resolute. He made no set speeches— 
played no part. Clear above all, and with the 
authoritative tone of truth, he repeated, “I am the 
man, and [ am not afraid or ashamed to confess it.” 

Sentence of death was passed upon him and twelve 
others. 

The next step, before the last, was to ascertain all 
the negroes who had entered into the plot. Isaac 
managed this part wisely. He kept his own counsel, 
and, besides his brother, as was supposed, no one 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 275 


knew who had agreed to help him at home or from a 
distance. The testimony was abundant that he had 
promise of such help. His declaration to the colored 
informer, “The bonfire of the town will raise forty 
thousand armed men for us,” was given in evidence. 
He admitted the fact. But no ingenuity, no pro- 
mises, no threats, could induce or force him to reveal 
a single name. ‘ You have me,” he said; ‘no one - 
other shall you get if I can prevent it. The only 
pain I feel is that my life alone is not to be taken. 
If these,” pointing to his fellow captives, “were safe, 
I should die triumphantly.” , 

The anxiety on this point naturally was very deep, 
and when the usual expedients had failed, the follow- 
ing scheme was hit upon: Isaac loved his minister, 
as everybody did who worshipped at his altar, and 
the minister reciprocated heartily that love. “ Isaac 
will not resist him—he will get out of Isaac all that 
we want to know.” This was the general belief, and, 
acting upon it, a committee visited the pastor. An 
explanation took place, and the good man readily 
consented to do all he could. 

He went to the cell. The slave-felon and the man 
of God confronted each other. 

“T come, Isaac,” said the latter, “ to find out from 
you everything about this wicked insurrection, and 
you” 

* Master,” hastily interrupted Isaac, “ you come 
for no such purpose. You may have been over- 
persuaded to do so, or unthinkingly have given your 
consent. But will you, who first taught me religion, 
who made me know that my Jesus suffered and died 
in truth—will you tell me to betray confidence 
sacredly intrusted to me, and thus sacrifice others’ 





276 THE ROVING EDITOR 


lives because my life is to be forfeited? Can you 
persuade me, as a sufferer and a struggler for free- 
dom, to turn traitor to the very men who were to 
help me? Oh, master, let me love you:” and, rising, 
as if uncertain of the influence of his appeal, to 
his full stature, and looking his minister directly in 
the face, he added, with commanding majesty, “ You 
know me!” 

I wish that I could repeat the tale as I heard the 
old minister tell it. So minute, yet so natural; so 
particular in detail, yet so life-like! The jail, its 
inner cell, the look and bearing of Isaac, his calmness 
and greatness of soul. It was touching in the ex- 
treme. I have known sternest slaveholders to weep 
like children as they would listen to the story. But 
I can only narrate it as | remember it, in briefest out- 
line. The old divine continued : i 

“T could not proceed. I looked at Isaac; my eye 
fell before his. I could not forget his rebuke; I ac- 
knowledged my sin. For the first time in my minis- 
terial life, I had done a mean, a base act; and, stand- 
ing by the side of a chained felon, I felt myself to be 
the criminal.” 

A long silence ensued. ‘The minister was in hopes 
that Isaac would break it; he did not. He himself 
made several attempts to do so, but failed. Recover- 
ing from his shock at length, and reverting in his 
own mind to the horrors which the revolt would have 
occasioned, he resumed the conversation thus: 

“ But, Isaac, yours was a wicked plot; and if you 
had succeeded, you would have made the very streets 
run blood. How could you think of this? How 
consent to kill your old master and mistress? How 
dream of slaying me and mine?” 


IN HIS SANCTUM. OE 


“ Master,” Isaac quickly responded, “I love old 
master and mistress. [love you and yours. I would 
- die to bless you any time. Master, I would hurt no 
human being, no living thing. But you taught me 
that God was the God of black as well as white—that 
he was no respecter of persons—that in his eye all 
were alike equal—and that there was no religion un- 
less we loved him and our neighbor, and did untu 
others as we would they should do unto us. Master, I 
was aslave. My wife and children were slaves. If 
equal with others before God, they should be equal 
before men. I saw my young masters learning, hold- 
ing what they made, and making what they could. 
But, master, my race could make nothing, holding 
nothing. What they did they did for others, not for 
themselves. And they had to do it, whether they 
wished it or not; for they were slaves. Master, this 
is not loving our neighbor, or doing to others as we 
would have them do to us. I knew there was and 
could be no help for me, for wife or children, for my 
‘race, except we were free; and as the whites would | 
not let this be so, and as God told me he could only 
help those who helped themselves, I preached free- 
dom to the slaves, and bid them strike for it like 
men. Master, we were betrayed. But I tell you 
now, if we had succeeded, I should have slain old 
master and mistress and you first, to show my people 
that I could sacrifice my love, as I ordered them to 
sacrifice their hates, to have justice—justice for them 
—justice for mine—justice for all. I should have 
been miserable and wretched for life. I could not 
kill any human creature without being so. But, 
master, God here” —pointing with his chained hand to 


278 THE ROVING EDITOR 


his heart—‘* told me then, as he tells me now, that I 
was right.” 

“T don’t know how it was,” continued the old min- 
ister, “but I was overpowered. Isaac mastered me. 
It was not that his reasoning was conclusive; that, I 
could have answered easily; but my conduct had 
been so base and his honesty was so transparent, his 
look so earnest and sincere, his voice so commanding, 
that I forgot everything in my sympathy for him. 
He was a hero, and bore himself like one without 
knowing it. I knew by that instinct which ever ac- 
companies goodness, that the slave-felon’s conscience 
was unstained by crime even in thought; and, grasp- 
ing him by the hand, without scarce knowing what 
I was going to do, I said, ‘Isaac, let us pray.’ And I 
prayed long and earnestly. I did not stop to think 
of my words. My heart poured itself out and I was 
relieved.” 

‘And what,” I asked, ‘“ was the character of your 
prayer ?” 

“What it ought. to have been,” energetically - 
replied the old divine. “I prayed to God as our 
common Father. I acknowledged that he would do 
justice; that it was hard for us, poor mortals, to say 
who was right and who was wrong on earth; that 
the very best were sinners, and those deemed the 
worst by us might be regarded the best by Him. I 
prayed for Isaac. I prayed God to forgive him, if 
wrong; to forgive the whites, if he was right; to 
forgive and bless all. I was choked with tears. 
I caught hold of Isaac’s hand and pressed it 
warmly, and received his warm pressure in return. 
And with a joy I never experienced before or 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 279 


since, I heard his earnest, solemn ‘Amen’ as [I 
closed. 

“We stood together for some time in silence. 
Isaac was deeply moved. I saw it by the working 
of his frame, and the muscles of his face and his eye. 
For the first time tear-drops stood on his eyelids. 
But, stilling every emotion, he began, as calmly as if 
he were going to rest: 

“¢< Master, I shall die in peace, and I give youa 
dying man’s blessing. I shall see you no more on 
earth. Give my love to old master and mistress, 
and’—for a moment he faltered, but with concen- 
trated energy choked down instantly his deepest 
emotion as he continued, more solemnly than I ever 
heard mortal speak—‘ and, master, if you love me— 
if you love Jesus—lead my wife and children as you 
have led me—to heaven. God bless you forever, 
master.’ 

“We parted. Isaw him no more. I could not 
see him hung, or pray for him, as requested to do by 
others in the last dying hour. I had been with him 
long. Jor four hours we were together in his nar- 
row, noisome cell. How indelibly are the events 

which occurred in them impressed upon my memory! 
Oh! slavery—slavery !” 

The citizens outside awaited anxiously the good 
minister’s egress from the jail, and, when he appeared, 
crowded round him to know the result. He looked 
like one jaded with a long journey. He was worn 
down. “It is useless—it is useless—let him die in 
peace,” was all he said; and, seeing that he was 
deeply moved, and taking it for granted that he had 
been engaged in devotional exercises with the dying, 
silence pervaded the group, and he was allowed to 


280 THE ROVING EDITOR 


depart in peace. And never in public or in a mixed 
audience, would that minister refer to Isaac, or the 
hours he spent with him! 

No other effort to elicit information from the 
leader was made, and none who promised him help 
were discovered through him. 

The death-day came. A mighty crowd gathered 
to witness the sad event to which, in that place, it 
was to be devoted; and the military, with gleaming 
swords and bright bayonets, stood under the gallows, 
to guard against escape or difficulty. Six “felons ” 
were upon the gallows—it could hold no more—and 
Isaac was put on the list. ‘“ Be men,” said he, when 
one of the number showed some timidity, “ and die 
like men. I'll give you an example: then, obey my 
brother.” That brother stood next him. Isaac 
gazed intently upon the crowd—some thought he was 
looking for his wife and children—and then spoke his 
farewell to his young masters. A few words passed 
between him and his brother, when, saying audibly, 
“T’ll die a freeman,” he sprung up as high as he could, 
and fell heavily as the knotted rope checked his fall. 
Instantly his frame was convulsed, and, in its museu- 
lar action, his feet reached the plank on which he 
had stood, looking as if he sought to regain it. His 
brother, turning his face to his comrades, deliberately 
put his hand upon his side, and, leaning forward, 
held the body clear with his elbow, as he said: “ Let 
us die like him.” 

The authorities perceived that the terrors of the 
law would be lost, and none of “the good” they 
anticipated be secured among the blacks, especially, 
who filled up the outer circle of the dense crowd, if 
this lofty heroism were witnessed. They proceeded 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 281 


rapidly with the execution, and, in a few moments, 
Isaac and his brother and their felon comrades were 
asleep together. 

The bodies of the blacks, after dangling in the air 
the usual time, as if in mockery of heaven and earth, 
were cut down, coflined, and carted away to their 
burial-place. That was an out-of-the-way old field, 
with a stagnant lagoon on three sides of it, and a 
barren sand-waste, covered with a sparse growth of 
short pines, on the other. 

Beneath the shade of one of these pines which 
skirted the field, and not far off from the felons’ 
graves, a colored woman and a cluster of little ones 
might have been seen. These were Isaac’s wife and 
children. They stood where they were, until all, 
save one white man, had departed. He made a 
signal, and they approached the burial spot. He 
pointed to a particular spot, and left. None know, 
save our Father, how long the widowed one and the 
fatherless remained there, or what were their emo- 
tions. But, next morning, a rough stake was found 
driven into the earth where Isaac lay, and, ere the 
next Sabbath dawned, a pile of stones with an 
upright memorial, was placed at the head of his 
grave. How these stones were obtained—for none 
like them were to be seen within thirty or forty 
miles—no one could say, though all knew who put 
them there. The rude memorial still stands! The 
grave of Isaac is yet known! And that widowed 
one, while she lived—for she, too, has departed— 
kept the lone burial spot free from weeds, and cov- 
ered it with the wild rose, as if the spirit which had 
once animated the cold clay beneath, loved a robe 
of beauty and sweetness ! 


282 THE ROVING EDITOR 


As not the least remarkable feature in Isaac’s con- 
duct, was the course he pursued towards his family, 
we cannot close without referring to it. He was an 
exemplary husband, and a wise as well as kind 
father. His wife was not superior, intellectually, but 
she was affectionate, and he so moulded her charac- 
ter as to make her worthy of him. His children 
were well-behaved, and remarkable for their polite 
manners. His very household gave evidence of all 
this. Everything was in order; the furniture was 
neat; in all the arrangements he had an intelligent 
eye to comfort and taste; he had a watch, and some 
tolerable Scripture engravings; and his little garden 
was well stocked with the best vegetables, the best 
fruit, and the rarest flowers. 

Of the plot, Isaac’s wife knew nothing. He had 
evidently thought of his failure, and committed no 
women, and as few married men as he could. He 
meant, let what might happen to him, that his part- 
ner should suffer no harm. This was evident enough 
from his conduct. For, the first thing he did after 
his arrest, was to desire an interview with his master. 
That was denied him. Not that the old gentleman 
was cruel or angry—for he loved Isaac—but because, 
as he said, “ He could not stand it.” The next thing 
was to send for his young master. He came, and to 
him he said: “‘ Massa Thomas, I have sent for you to 
say, that my wife does not know anything about the 
insurrection, or any of my action. I wanted to see 
old master to beg of him not to sell or separate her 
and the children. I must get you to do that. And, 
Massa Thomas, when your father dies, I want you to 
promise that you will help them.” The young man 
promised (and we rejoice to say his word was kept), 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 283 


and then Isaac, the slave and the felon, blessed him. 
Neyer again, until near his last hour, when convers- 
ing with his minister, did he refer to his family, and 
the only message he sent them was a torn Bible, with 
this sentence rudely writ down on one of the leaves: 
“ We shall live again, and be together.” So deep 
was his affection for his family, and so careful was he 
to ward off every suspicion from them. 

I met, last summer, the slaveholder—an intelligent 
and humane man—who commanded the military the 
day Isaac was hung. 7 

I referred to the scene. He spoke of it as one of 
the most moving that he had ever witnessed, and to 
my surprise, though very much to my gratification, 
remarked : 

“T never knew what true heroism was until I saw 
Isaac manifest it upon his seizure, trial and death. I 
felt my inferiority to him in every way, and I never 
think of him without ranking him among the best 
and bravest men that ever lived.” 

The record below tells of his crime, and he will be 
remembered on earth as a felon; but the record 
above will contain his virtues, and in heaven the 
good will know and love him—for Isaac was a Mav. 


Tid 
THE UNDERGROUND TELEGRAPH. 


Tue thriving condition of the Underground Rail- 
road, establishes conclusively the existence of secret 
and rapid modes of communication among the slave 
population of the South. Many extraordinary stories 
are told by the Southrons themselves of the facility 
with which the negroes learn of all events that tran- 
spire in the surrounding country. In spite of strict 
surveillance on the plantation, and careful watching 
abroad, by means of numerous and well mounted 
patrols, the slaves pass freely over large tracts of 
country. More especially does this state of things 
exist among the plantations of the cotton growing 
States. The dense forests, swamps and morasses, 
which the negroes alone can tread with impunity, 
enable them to avoid the highways and beaten paths 
wherein they would be likely to meet the patrol. 

This system of secret travel originally grew out of 
the social desires of the slaves—their love of gossip 
and wish to meet their friends and relatives; but, as 
the tyranny of the system grew more insupportable, 
in the natural course of events, and the yearnings 
after freedom became stronger in the minds of the 


negroes themselves, it was used for other and far 
284 


A 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 285 


more dangerous purposes. The preceding chapter 
will show how an earnest man can use this power. 

I remember an incident narrated to me at Charles- 
ton, which illustrates this point. In conversation 
upon various subjects with Col. , a fine speci- 
men of the Southern planter, with whom I had formed 
a slight acquaintance, various traits and peculiarities 
of the negro character were alluded to; and, among 
others, the extraordinary facilities possessed by the 
slaves in communicating with each other. 

Col. said it was impossible to prevent. it. 
No matter how rigid the laws might be, or how 
strictly they were enforced, the evil (as he called it) 
still continued to grow. He related the following 
incident as a proof of this rapid inter-communication: 

‘Several summers since, [ was in the interior of 
the State, visiting the plantation of a friend. While 
there, one morning, the news arrived of a dreadful 
murder that had been committed, a short distance 
from the estate, by a poor white man who kept a 
small grocery at the cross roads near the boundary 
of several estates. He was supposed to be a receiver 
of the various articles which plantation slaves are in 
the habit of stealing. In a fit of insane jealousy, he 
had brutally murdered a woman who lived with 
him as his wife. He had immediately decamped, 
and was supposed to have gone in the direction of 
Charleston. I was about returning to my home; 
and my friend, an active magistrate, proposed that 
we should endeavor to overtake the murderer; or, 
by reaching the city at an early hour, cause his ar- 
rest. The distance was about eighty miles, and we 
did not start till late in the afternoon. We rode 
rapidly, changing our horses twice, and about two 








986 THE ROVING EDITOR 


o’clock in the morning, reached the banks of the river 
a few miles from the city. My companion had al- 
luded, during the ride, to the knowledge that our ser- 
vants were generally possessed of all intelligence, and 
offered to bet any arnount of money that ‘ Old Harry’ 
(the black ferryman), already knew everything about 
the murder. I was incredulous; for we had ridden 
fast, and, by no possibility, did it seem to me, could 
he have learnt anything relating to the tragedy. 

“<« Well, Harry,’ said my companion to the old fel- 
low, ‘ what’s the news up country ? 

“<«T dun’no know, mass’r,’ was the hesitating reply ; 
‘you gentlemen has jest come down, and probable 
knows more ’bout it dan I does.’ 

< About what? I asked. 

“<¢Why, sah, de murder ob Abe Thomas’ wife las’ 
night.’ 

“The murder was discovered by the patrols about 
three o’clock in the morning ! 

‘We both expressed our ignorance of the event, and 
old Harry, after some hesitation, gave us the par- 
ticulars very accurately, stating that he had heard of 
it that night from a plantation hand. 

‘“‘ Here was an extraordinary proof of what my com- 
panion had stated. We had travelled rapidly ; no 
one had left the neighborhood before us; yet this old 
man had learnt of the event some hours previous to 
our arrival. It had been passed from plantation to 
plantation, and thus it had reached him.” 

I listened to the story, and treasured up its facts. 
~ It seems to me that here lies a power, by means of 
which a formidable insurrection, directed by white 
men, can safely be formed and consummated. And 
the slaves know this fact. The Canadian fugitives 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 287 


understand it; and are thoroughly systematizing this 
Underground Telegraph. Many of them are con- 
stantly passing to and fro in the Slave States with 
perfect impunity. Through it, hundreds of the rela- 
tives and friends of men, who have already secured 
their freedom, have been informed of the means by 
which they can obtain the liberty so eagerly desired. 
By its operations, when the appropriate hour for 
sounding the alarum shall have come, speedily, 
surely and swiftly, will the news spread southward, 
and reach, in the silent hours of the night, thousands 
of eager souls now awaiting, in trembling anxiety, 
for the terrible day of deliverance. 


AIP 


THE DISMAL SWAMP. 


TuerE is a Canada in the Southern States. It is 
the Dismal Swamp. It is the dreariest and the most 
repulsive of American possessions. It is the favorite 
resort of wild animals and reptiles; the paradise of 
serpents and poisonous vegetation. No human 
being, one would think, would voluntary live there ; 
and yet, from time immemorial, it has been the 
chosen asylum of hundreds of our race. It has been 
the earthly heaven of the negro slave; the place 
“where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
Weary are at rest.” 

For the following account of life.in the Swamp, I 
am indebted to the courtesy of Mrs. Knox, of Bos- 
ton. It was narrated by a fugitive slave in Canada, 
whose words, as he uttered them, she reported ver- 
batim. She purposes to publish, a volume of auto- 
biographical sketches of the Canadian fugitives; and 
it is from her manuscript collection that this narrative 
is taken. 

The uniform testimony of the runaways she con- 
versed with, as well as of all the fugitives whom Mr. 
Drew examined, is that slavery is the sum of all vil- 
lainies—“ Cousin of Hell,’ as one of them phrased 
it—and that the bondmen everywhere are discon- 


tented with their lot. 
288 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 989 


This is the Canadian runaway’s narrative of 


LIFE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP. 


... . “Thirty-five miles I was sep’rated from my 
wife, buildin’ house for overseer. ’Casionally I was 
permitted to go home. De las’ time (I remember it 
’stinetly) when I seed her, I telled her I would come 
back agin in four weeks. Arter I had worked four 
weeks, de overseer would n’t let me go; so I waited 
and axed him sever’l times. I knowed my wife would 
keep ’spectin’ me and ’spectin’ me till I comed. I 
begged de overseer one dey to jist let me go home; for 
I had n’t seen my wife den for seven weeks. He got 
orful vexed at me, and writed to my mass’r "bout me. 

“ Arterward de overseer’s wife was mad wit 
Charity, an my brudder hearn her treaten to send 
Charity to Richmond, whar my mass’r was agoin’ to 
send me to be selled. My brudder telled me now 
was my time to make clar, or else I’ d be hussled off 
*fore I knowed it. 

“Dat mornin’ de overseer comed whar I be, an’ 
axed me: ‘Charlie, I want ye to come to de house 
an’ work; cellar steps need ’pairin’, as da "bout 
given way, and old Charity fell down dem to’der 
day, and like to have broken her ole thick skull; 
‘specks she will yet, boy, less ye impair dem. Ye 
better come right up, Charley, and dood it.’ 

“ Now I jist knowed dat ole coon was tryin’ to 
lay wait to ketch me, to tie me so he’d sell me down 
Souf. I didn’t live wid old Hunker for not’in’, I 
tort; and as I didn’t never ’spect much else but my 
larnin’ from him, I bet ye I laid out to make all my 
larnin’ tell. Slavery teaches some tings you does n’t 

13 


990 THE ROVING EDITOR 


find in books, I tell ye. Well, I knowed dem ar 
cellar steps would be a long time ’fore da ketched im- 
pairs by my fixin’s. . . . . I telled de overseer 
‘Yes, sah,’ an’ he went struttin’ "bout, ’spectin’ every 
minnit to make a grab at me when I comed out. 
But he didn’t t’ough, bet ye. 

‘Arter he sot down to dinner, I jist tort, dem 
are heels “longed to me, and so I jest let my legs be 
’sponsible for my heels, till da bringed me and my 
heels to de woods. . . . . Irunned all Gat arter- 
noon, and in de nex’ night I got whar my brudder 
lived, "bout five miles off my wife. . . . . Liz 
zie was a good wife to me, and I didn’t knew how I 
could leave her. Slavery asunders everyting we 
love in dis life, God knows. . . . . Deni walked 
fifteen mile to my mudder’s. I knocked at her win- 
der, and telled her I was her own Charley in great 
‘stress. She comed right to de door, grieved most to 
def, when I tell’d her mass’r gived overseer commis- 
sion to sell me. Oh! I didn’t know what to-do. 
My poor ole mudder ! , 

‘“‘T started off an’ lef’ her rotted mightily. Dat’s 
de las’ I knowed ’bout my wife or ole mudder, or any 
ob my ’lations. 

“‘T went to a friend aa mine. -He was gone away. 
His wife knowed I was hungry, and so she ga’en me 
aright smart supper, and arterwards I intired. In 
de night her husband comed home. He mediately 
called me. I ’peared. He say he knowed folks in 
de Dismal Swamp, and p’raps he might ’ceed for me, 
an’ get me ’casion to work dar. He keeped me six 
days, whar I was hided away an’ wouldn’t be 
’sturbed. Den I hired into de Juniper Swamp for 
two dollars a month. 


IN HIS SANOTUM. 291 


“JT spect you ’ve heern good deal bout dat swamp, 
maam? Da calls it Dismal Swamp ; and guess good 
name for it. “Tis all dreary like. Dar never was 
any heaven’s sunshine in some parts orn’t. 

“T boarded wit a man what giv me two dollars a 
month for de first one: arter dat I made shingles for 
myse’f. Dar are heaps ob folks in dar to work. 
Most on ’em are fugitives, or else hirin’ dar time. 
Dreadful *commodatin’ in dare to one anudder. De 
each like de ’vantage ob de odder one’s ’tection. Ye 
see dey’s united togedder in’ividually wit same inter- 
est to stake. Never hearn one speak disinspectively 
to *nut’er one: all ’gree as if dey had only one head 
and one heart, with hunder legs and hunder hands. 
Dey’s more ’commodatin’ dan any folks I’s ever seed 
afore or since. Da lend me dar saws, so I might be 
*pared to split my shingles; and den dey turn right 
*bout and ’commodate demsels.. Ye ax me in- 
scribe de swamp ? 

“ Well: de great Dismal Swamp (dey call it Juni- 
per Swamp) pignds from whar it begins in Norfolk, 
old Virginny, to de upper part ob Serie Dat’s 
what Ts told. It stands itse’f more ’n fifty mile north 
and souf. I worked ’bout four mile *bove Drummond 
Lake, which be ten mile wide. De boys used to 
make canoes out ob bark, and hab a nice time 
fishin’ in de lake. 

“Best water in Juniper Swamp ever tasted by 
man.* Dreadful healthy place to live, up in de 
high land in de cane-brake. ’Speck ye ’ve heern tell 
on it? There is reefs ob land—folks call de high 
lands. In dar de cane-brake grow t’irty feet high. 


* It is stated to have medicinal properties. 


292 THE ROVING EDITOR 


In dem ar can-brakes de ground is kivered wit leaves, 
kinder makin’ a nat’ral bed. Dar be whar de wild 
hogs, cows, wolves, and bars (bears) be found. De 
swamp is lower land, whar dar’s de biggest trees 
most ever was. De sypress is de handsomest, an’ 
anudder kind called de gum tree. 

“¢ Dismal Swamp is divided into tree or four parts. 
Whar I worked da called it Company Swamp. 
When we wanted fresh pork we goed to Gum 
Swamp, ’bout sun-down, run a wild hog down from 
de cane-brakes into Juniper Swamp, whar dar feet 
ean ’t touch hard ground, knock dem over, and dat ’s 
de way we kill dem. De same way we ketch wild 
cows. We troed dar bones, arter we eated all de 
meat off on ’em up, to one side de fire. Many ’s de 
time we waked up and seed de bars skulking round 
our feet for de bones. Da neber interrupted us; da 
knowed better; coz we would gin dem cold shot. 
Hope I shall live long enough to see de slaveholders 
feared to interrupt us! 

“T tort a sight *bout my wife, and 
abe allers be planin’ how I get to see her agin. Den 
IT heern dat old mass’r made her live wid anudder 
man, coz I left her. Dis formation nearly killed me. 
I mout ’spected it; for I knowed de mass’rs neber 
ingard de marriage ’stution ’spectin’ dar slaves. Dey 
hab de right to make me be selled from my wife, 
and dey had de right of makin’ her live wid anudder 
man if she hated him like pisin. I don’t blame 
Lizzie ; but I hoped she would b’lieve dat I was dead ; 
den she would n’t fret herself to def, as I knowed she 
would if she reckoned I was livin’. She loved me, I 
knowed, but dat warn’t no ’count at all. De slaves 
are ingarded as dey must marry jist for dar mass’r’s 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 293 


intrest. Good many on dem jist marry widout any 
more respect for each oder den if dey was hogs. 

I and my wife warn’t so. I married 
Lizzy, and had a ceremony over it, coz I loved her 
an’ she loved me. Well, arter I heern dat she was 
livin’ wid *nudder man, dat ar made me to come to 
Canada. 

“Ole man Fisher was us boys’ preacher. He 
runned away and used to pray, like he’s ’n earnest. 
I camped wid him. Many’s been de ’zortation I 
have ’sperienced, dat desounded t’rough de trees, an’ 
we would almos’ ’spect de judgment day was comin’, 
dar would be such loud nibrations, as de preacher 
called dem; ’specially down by de lake. I b’lieve 
God is no inspector of persons; an’ he knows his 
ehilder, and kin hear dem jest as quick in de Juniper 
Swamp as in de great churches what I seed in New 
York, whar dey don’t low a man, as I’m told, to go 
in thar, if he hasn’t been allers customed to sit on 
spring bottomed cheers, and sofas and pianners and 
all dem sort of tings. Tank de Lord, he don’t tink 
so much *bout spring-bottom cheers as his poor crit- 
ters do—dat’s a fac’. Iwas fered to peep inside dem 
ar rich churches, and I ’spects de blessed Lord his- 
self dunno much more bout dar insides dan I does. 

. Oh, dey were nice prayers we used to have 
sometimes, an’ I donno but de old preacher is dar 
now. 

“Dar is families growed up in dat ar Dismal 
Swamp dat never seed a white man, an’ would be 
skeered most to def to see one. Some runaways 
went dere wid dar wives, an’ dar childers are raised 
dar. We never had any trouble ’mong us boys; but 
I tell you pretty hard tings sometimes cur dat makes 


294 THE ROVING EDITOR 


ye shiver all over, as if ye was frozed. De master 
will offer a reward to some one in de swamp to ketch 
his runaway. So de colored folks got jist as much 
devil in dem as white folks; I sometimes tink de are 
jist as voracious arter money. Da ’tray de fugitives 
to dar masters. Sometimes de masters comes and 
shoots dem down dead on de spot. . . . Isaw wid 
my own eyes when dey shot Jacob. Dat is too bad 
to’member. God will not forget it; never, I bet ye. 
Six white men comed upon him afore he knowed 
nothin’ at all ’bout it most. Jist de first ting Jacob 
seed was his old master, Simon Simms, of Suffolk, 
Virginny, standing right afore him. Dem ar men— 
all on em—had a gun apiece, an’ dey every one of 
dem pointed right straight to de head of poor Jacob. 
He felt scared most to def. Old Simms hollored out 
to him—‘ Jake! You run a step, you nigger, and V’ll 
blow yer brains out.’ Jacob didn’t know for de 
life on him what to do. He feared to gin up: he too 
scared to run; he dunno what todo. Six guns wid 
number two shot, aimed at your head isn’t nothin’, I 
tell ye. Takes brave man to stand dat, ’cordin’ to 
my reck’nin’. . 

“Jacob lifts up his feet to run. Marcy on him!. 
De master and one ob de men levelled dar guns, and 
dar guns levelled poor Jacob. His whole right side 
from his hip to his heel was cut up like hashmeat. 
He bleeded orfull. Dey took some willow bark— 
made a hoop orn’t—run a board trough it—put Ja- 
cob on it like as if he war dead; run a pole t?rough 
de willow hoop, and put de poles on dar shoulders. 

‘‘ Dreadful scenes, I tell ye, ’sperienced in de Dis- 
mal Swamp, sometimes, when de masters comes dar. 
Dey shoot down runaways, and tink no more 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 295 


sendin’ a ball trough dar hearts and sendin’ dar 
hearts into *Ternity dan jist nothin’ at all. But de 
balls will be seen in *Ternity, when de master gets 
dar ’spectin’ to stay; ’spect dey’ll get dispinted a 


heap! 
“T feared to stay dar arter I seed such tings; so 
I made up my mind to leave..... *Spect I better 


not tell de way I comed: for dar’s lots more boys 
comin’ same way I did.” 


y 
SCENES IN A SLAVE PRISON. 


[From a private letter to Charles Sumner, by Dr. 8. G. Howe, 
of Boston. } 


I wave passed ten days in New Orleans—not un- 
profitably, I trust—in examining the public institu- 
tions, the schools, asylums, hospitals, prisons, ete. 
With the exception of the first, there is little hope of 
amelioration. I know not how much merit there 
may be in their system, but I do know that in the 
administration of the penal code, there are abomina- 
tions which should bring down the fate of Sodom 
upon the city. 

A man suspected of a crime and awaiting his trial, 
is thrust into a pandemonium filled with convicts 
and outlaws, where, herding and sleeping in common 
with hardened wretches, he breathes an atmosphere 
whose least evil is its physical impurity; and which 
is loaded with blasphemies, obscenities, and the 
sound of hellish orgies, intermingled with the clank- 
ing of the chains of the more furious, who are not 
caged, but who move about in the crowd with fet- 
tered legs and hands. 

If Howard or Mrs. Fry ever discovered a worse 
administered den of thieves than the New Orleans 


prison, they never described it. 
296 


THE ROVING EDITOR. 297 


In the negroes’ apartment I saw much which made 
me blush that I was a white man. Entering a large 
paved courtyard, around which ran galleries filled 
with slaves of all ages, sexes and colors, I heard the 
snap of a whip, every stroke of which sounded like 
the sharp crack of a small pistol. I turned my head 
and beheld a sight which absolutely chilled me to the 
marrow of my bones. There lay a black girl, flat 
upon her face on a board, her two thumbs tied and 
fastened to one end, her feet tied and drawn tightly 
to the other end, while a strap passed over the small 
of her back, and fastened around the board, confined 
her closely to it. Below the strap she was entirely 
naked; by her side, and six feet off, stood a huge 
negro with a long whip, which he applied with dread- 
ful power and wonderfwl precision. Every stroke 
brought away a strip of scarf skin and made the blood 
spring to the surface. The poor creature writhed 
and shrieked, and, in a voice which showed alike her 
fear of death and her dreadful agony, screamed to 
her master, who stood at her head, “Oh! spare my 
life—do n’t cut my soul out!” But still fell the hor- 
rid lash; still strip after strip was broken from the 
skin; gash after gash was cut in her flesh, until it 
became a livid and bloody mass of raw and quiver- 
ing muscle. 

It was with the greatest difficulty that I refrained 
from springing upon the torturer and arresting his 
lash. But, alas! what could I do but turn aside, to 
hide my tears for the sufferer, and my blushes for 
humanity. 

This was in a public and regularly organized prison. 
The punishment was one recognized and authorized 
by the law. But, think you, the poor wretch had 

13* 


298 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


committed a heinous offence, and been convicted 
thereof, and sentenced to the lash? Not at all! She 
was brought by her master to be whipped by the 
common executioner, without trial, judge, or jury, to 
gratify his own whim or malice. And he may bring 
her day after day, without cause assigned, and inflict 
any number of lashes he pleases, short of twenty-five, 
provided only he pays the fee. Or, if he choose, he 
may have a private whipping-board on his own 
premises and brutalize himself there. 

A shocking part of this horrid punishment was its 
publicity. As I have said, it was in a courtyard, 
surrounded by galleries, which were filled with 
colored persons of all sexes: runaway slaves; slaves 
committed for some crime, or slaves up for sale. You 
would naturally suppose they crowded forward, and 
gazed, horror-stricken, at the brutal spectacle below. 
But they did not; many of them hardly noticed it; 
and some were entirely indifferent to it. They went 
on in their childish pursuits, and some were laughing 
outright in the distant parts of the galleries! So low 
can man, created in God’s image, be sunk in brutal- 
ity! So much is he the creature of circumstance, 
that, by a degrading and brutalizing system of sla- 
very, every distinguishing trait of humanity may be 
effaced, and he be made happy as the stalled ox; 
while a Christian and civilized people can be found, 
who, from the mere love of lucre, will fasten their 
system, and urge, in their defence, that he is as 
happy as a brute, and is incapable of any higher 
enjoyment. 


S. G. Howr. 


eT. 
MY OBJECT. 


Tae reader must have noticed that I took par-_ 
ticular pains to ascertain the secret sentiments of the 
Southern slaves. He must have seen, also, that 
I never stepped aside to collate or investigate any 
cases of unusual cruelty, or to portray the neglect 
of masters in the different States, to provide their 
bondmen with the comforts of a home or the decen- 
cies of life. That I had material enough, my sum- 
mary will show. 

I did not go South to collect the materials for 
a distant war of words against it. Far more earnest 
was my aim. 

I saw or believed that one cycle of anti-slavery 
warfare was about to close—the cycle whose cor- 
respondences in history are the eras of John Ball, 
the herald of the brave Jack Cade; of the Humble 
Remonstrants who preceded Oliver Cromwell, and 
the Iconoclastic Puritans ; and of the Encyclopzedists 
of the age of Louis the Sixteenth, whose writings 
prepared the way for the French Revolution. I 
believed that the cycle of action was at hand. I 
considered it, therefore, of importance to know the 
feelings and aspirations of the slaves. I cared little, 


comparatively with this object, to ascertain their 
é 299 


300 THE ROVING EDITOR 


physical condition. I never even read a book on the 
subject—a volume of fiction alone excepted—until 
the manuscripts of the preceding pages were placed 
in the hands of the printer. I knew that irrepres- 
sible power must, from its very nature, corrupt men, 
and make them cruel, heartless, and licentious. It 
would have been useless to travel South to corrobo- 
rate that truth. 

My object was to aid the slaves. If I found that 
slavery had so far degraded them, that they were 
comparatively contented with their debased condi- 
tion, I resolved, before I started, to spend my 
time in the South, in disseminating discontentment: 
But if, on the other hand, I found them ripe for 
a rebellion, my resolution was to prepare the way 
for it, as far as my ability and opportunities per- 
mitted. 

I believed that a civil war between the North and 
South would ultimate in insurrection, and that the 
Kansas troubles would probably create a military 
conflict of the sections. Hence I left the South, and 
went to Kansas; and endeavored, personally and by 
|my pen, to precipitate a revolution. That we failed 
\—for I was not alone in this desire—was owing 
to the influence of prominent Republican statesmen, 
whose unfortunately conservative character of counsel 
—which it was impossible openly to resist—effect- 
ually bafiled all our hopes: hopes which Democratic 
action was auspiciously promoting. 

Are we, then, without hope ? 

No! and, while slaves live, and the God of justice 
is omnipotent, never will we be discouraged. Reyo- 
lutions never go backward. The second American 
Revolution has begun. Kansas was its Lexington: 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 301 


Texas will be its Bunker Hill, and South Carolina 
its Yorktown. 

It is fashionable for our animalculz-statesmen 
to lament or affirm that slavery cannot speedily be 
abolished. It is so wrought and interwoven with 
the social system of the South—with its commercial, 
political, and religious organizations—that to root it 
out at once, they maintain, would be disastrous to 
the country and to the slave himself. Perish the 
country, then, and woe to the slave! Whatever 
falls, let slavery perish. Whoever suffers, let 
slavery end. If the Union is to be the price of a 
ervme, let us repent of the iniquity and- destroy the 
bond. 

Do you desire to aid in overthrowing slavery ? 
There is work for you to do, whatever may be your 
talents or ideas of policy. 

—Shall I venture to predict? It may be that 
I am not a prophet—but, as far as we believe in 
humanity, and right, and an overruling God, we 
have the power of foreseeing results. All fanatics 
are prophets to the extent of their vision—for fana- 
ticism is the ardent worship of a truth; and by its 
light we can—nay, must—see the sequences of acts 
performed in accordance or in violation of it. And I 
am a fanatic. 

Slavery will be speedily abolished. ThatIsee. I 
think, by violence; nay, I know by bloodshed, if the 
present spirit long pervades the South. ‘ Unless it 
repents it shall utterly perish.” 

Slavery will soon be driven east of the Mississippi. 

Missouri—already surrounded by free communi- 
ties ; with friends of the slave, from the adjoining ter- 
ritory, ever active on her borders; with the money 


302 THE ROVING EDITOR 


of the merchant, the selfishness of the laborer, and 
the ambition of the politician arrayed against her 
domestic institution, and the fear of the slaveholder 
justly aroused for the safety of his property in man 
—this State, so recently the champion of the South, 
will be the first to succumb to the spirit of the 
North, and realize the truth that they who take the 
sword shall perish by it. 

South of Kansas lies a fertile region already dark- © 
ened by the curse of slavery. It is the Indian Terri- 
tory. It will soon be thrown open for the settlement 
of the white race. Another struggle will ensue—and 
another victory for freedom; for the men “who, at 
Yellow Stone, fired at Federal troops, and, at Osa- 
wattomie—seventeen against four hundred—made 
the embattled marauders bite the dust, will be there 
to avenge the martyrs of Lawrence and the Marais 
des Oygnes. Will they have no other aid? Yes; 
for there are negroes enslaved in the Indian Territory : 
the descendants of the bravest warriors America has 
produced—the hunted maroons, who, for forty years, 
in the swamps of Florida, defied the skill and armies 
of the United States. They hate slavery and the 
race that upholds it, and are longing for an opportu- 
nity to display that hatred. Not far from this terri- 
tory, in a neighboring province of Mexico, live a na- 
tion of trained negro soldiers—the far-famed Florida 
Indians, who, after baflling and defying the United 
States, and after having been treacherously enslaved 
by the Creeks, incited thereto by Federal officials, 
bravely resisted their oppressors and made an Exo- 
dus, the grandest since the days of Moses, to a land 
of freedom. Already have their oppressors felt their 
prowess ; and their historian tells us—‘ they will be 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 3038 


heard from again.” * Mark the significant warn- 
ing! 

Arrizonia is a mining country. There is gold, sil- 
ver and copper there. It requires skilled labor to 
extract them from the ore. Free laborers will flock tc 
these regions as soon as it is profitable to go, and 
overwhelm, by mere numerical force, the champions of 
the Southern system. The wild Indians, too, are the 
friends of the negro. The diplomacy of the Florida 
Indians has made them the eternal enemies of the 
South. Zhe nation will see this fact when the Texan 
struggle begins. 

Slavefy can never be extended into Northern 
Mexico. The people hate it. Through all the multi- 
tudinous mutations of their history, this hatred has 
been the only established principle which pervaded 
the entire nation. If color is to be the badge of 
bondage, they know that they must succumb to it, if 
the Southern “ Norman” obtains dominion in their 
land. For the Mexicans of the frontier provinces 
are of mixed Indian, Negro and Spanish origin. 
There are numbers of fugitives from American sla- 
very among them, who superadd to a deadly national 
animosity, a still stronger hatred of a race of ty- 
rants. 

Texas is a tempting bait for the North; the great- 
est territorial prize of the age. By the terms of its 
admission, it may be divided into five States. What 
shall the character of those States be? There are 
numbers of resolute pioneers in Kansas who have 
sworn that Texas shall again be free—as it was under 
Mexican domination—before the “flag of the free” 


* See “The Exiles of Florida,” by Joshua R. Giddings. 


304 THE ROVING EDITOR 


waved over it. They have declared that a line of 
free States shall extend, southward, to the Mexican 
Gulf; that slavery shall, westward, find the bound 
which it cannot pass. Within the borders of Texas 
there is already a numerous free-labor population, 
whose numbers, by the organized emigration move- 
ment, will speedily be increased and presently pre- 
ponderate. The wealth of the North, which would 
shudder at the idea of a servile insurrection, is 
already pledged to the programme of anti-slavery 
emigration—which, as surely as to-morrow’s sun shall 
rise, will fldveataly and rapidly drive snes to the 
eastern shore of the Mississippi. 

Thus far, the programme will be essentially 
pacific—at most, a conflict of sections and rival 
civilizations. Thus far, but no further, political ac- 
tion may benefit the slave. The Republican party, 
the champion of white laborers,- will plead their 
cause and insure them success. ‘To this extent, 
therefore, the friend of the slave can consistently aid 
the Republican party; but, this end gained, it will 
be his duty to desert and war against it. For it is 
publicly pledged never to interfere, by political action, 
with slavery where it already exists; but, on the con- 
trary, to preserve and defend whatever may be “ pro- 
tected by the egis of State sovereignty.” * 

West of the Mississippi and in the State of Missouri, 
therefore, the friend of the slave, from the inevitable 
operation of potent political and commercial forces, 
may leave, to a great extent, the fate of slavery to 
peaceful causes or other than distinctively abolition 
movements. 


* See J. C. Fremont’s Letter of Acceptance, and the Republican 
Campaign Documents, passim. 


IN HIS SANCTUM. 3805 


Westward, slavery cannot go. Northward, its influ- 
ence daily diminishes. The sentiment of the Eastern 
world is hostile to it always. Can it extend South- 
ward? It will look in vain to Central America. 
The same mixed races who hate the modern “ Nor- 
man” in Mexico inhabit those regions, and are ani- 
mated by the same true spirit; and the attempt, if 
ever made, to subdue this people, in order to extend 
the area of bondage, will justly precipitate a war with 
the powers of Europe. The South does not dare to 
hazard a war with such great powers on such an 
issue, 

The islands of the American Archipelago are to-day 
almost exclusively in the hands of the liberated Afri- 
can race. The first serious attempt at annexation will 
put them entirely in the possession of the blacks. 
Cuba has already, within her borders, seven thousand 
self-emancipated citizens; and it is afact, well known 
in our State Department, that the Spanish rulers of 
that island would unhesitatingly arm the black popu- 
lation, both slave and free, in the event of any serious 
attempt at conquest. 

But I would not fear the extension of American 
slavery, even if the neighboring nations were more 
friendly to it. Zhe South will soon find enough to 
do at home. Canada has hitherto been the safety 
valve of Southern slavery. The bold and resolute 
negroes, who were fitted by their character to incite 
the slaves to rebellion, and lead them on to victory, 
have hitherto, by the agency of the underground 
railroad, been triumphantly carried off to a land of 
freedom. The more sagacious Southrons have seen 
this fact, and congratulated themselves on it. They 
forget that the same qualities which induced ,these 


3506 . THE ROVING EDITOR. 


slaves to fly, would enable them, in their new home, 
to accumulate riches; and that to men who have 
endured the tyranny of slavery, there is nothing so 
much coveted as the hope of revenge. ‘There are 
thousands of dollars in the Canadian Provinces which 
are ready for the use of the insurrectionists. 

But is insurrection possible ? 

I believe that it is. The only thing that has 
hitherto prevented a universal revolt, is the impossi- 
bility of. forming extended combinations. This the 
slave code effectually prevents. To attain this end, 
therefore, the agency of white men is needed. 

Are there men ready for this holy work ? 

I thank God that there are. There are men who 
are tired of praising the French patriots—-who are 
ready to be Lafayettes and Kosciuskos to the slaves. 

Do you ask for a programme of action ? 

The negroes and the Southrons have taught us. 
The slaves of the Dismal Swamp, the maroons of 
Florida, the free-state men of Kansas, have pointed 
out the method. The South committed suicide when 
it compelled the free squatters to resort to guerilla 
warfare, and to study tt both as a mode of subsistence 
and a science. For the mountains, the swamps and 
morasses of the South, are peculiarly adapted to this 
mode of combat, and there are numbers of young men, 
trained to the art in the Kansas ravines, who are 
eager for an opportunity of avenging their slain com- 
rades, on the real authors of their death, in the forests — 
and plantations of the Carolinas and Georgia. 

Will you aid them—will you sustain them? Are 
you mm favor of a servile insurrection ? 


Tell God in acts. 
| Faretoell, 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 


2 


THE FIRST SLAVE IN KANSAS. 


I was one day in an office where I occasionally 
called. A colored woman entered the room, in- 
quired for me, and presented a note of introduction 
from an eminent reformer. She told me her sad 
story. She had been a slave, but had been liberated. 
Sfie had a son in slavery. Having tasted the bitter 
draught of bondage, she was working, night and day, 
to save her son from the curse. 

He was in Parkville, Missouri. His master or 
masters had offered to sell him for eleven hundred 
dollars. She had nearly raised the sum, when she 
wrote to him again. Instead of receiving an en- 
couraging reply, the following inhuman note was 
sent to the gentleman who wrote in her behalf: 


PARKVILL sept. 9th 1857 


sir I recived yours of the 28 of August you Say that the 
Mother of Miller is verry anxious to Buy him. I have rote 
some too or three Letter in relation to the time and Price now 


all I have to say is if you want him you must come by the fust 
807 


308 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


of Oct or you will have to come to Texs for him & I will not 
consider my Self under any obligation to take the same price 
after the first of Oct. if you can get here by the 20 of this 
Month per haps it would be better for you for I want to start 
soon as I can & by the 1 of Oct is the out Side time 
your in hast 
JoHn WALLIS 
Mr Henry Mor—* 


The poor mother did not think that Mr. Wallacet 
had the remotest intention of removing to “Texs ;” 
but believed that it was a pretext to raise the price 
of her boy; and, as she was nearly worn out already 
with anxiety and travel, she was beginning to despair 
of rescuing him from bondage. 

Could I do anything for her? Could I not run 
him off? I told her I would try. Shortly after this 
interview I went out to Kansas. It was some months 
before I could see any hope of successfully attempt- 
ing to liberate her boy. The weather was so un- 
usually mild that the river was not frozen over until 
some time after New Year’s Day. I then made a 
trip to Parkville; carefully, of course, concealing my 
intention. 

I saw the boy at the livery stable and spoke to 
him privately. He refused to try to escape. He 
would not run the risk of recapture. He appeared, 
in fact, indifferent to his fate. I afterwards spoke to 
him, in the presence of a slaveholder, of the efforts of 
his mother to secure his freedom. He did not think, 
he said, that she could do it. She had written about 
it so often that he had given over all hope. He 


* Tilegible in the MS. 
+ This is the Capt. Wallace mentioned in the chapter on Lynching 
an abolitionist. 


- 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 309 


didn’t keer much about it, nohow. He hadn’t, he 
said, much feelin’ for his kinsfolks. He had seen 
his father the other day—the first time for a number 
of years. The old man ran to meet him, and put out 
his hand; but he would n’t take it, would n’t call him 
father—only “‘that man!” He said that his father 
was living with another woman now, and had a family 
not very far off; but he had never called to see 
them, and never intended to go near them. He 
made another remark that shocked me so much that 
I determined to leave him to his fate. 

He told me that he had a brother, the property of 
a Mr. Pitcher, who lived in the town of Liberty. I 
mounted my horse and went there. I soon saw 
Pitcher. He was sitting in the public room of the 
hotel, with his feet against the dirty stove. His 
talk was of bullocks and blooded horses, with which, 
in all their varieties—with their genealogical his- 
tory, and the various faux pas of their different 
branches—and other interesting equestrian informa- 
tion, he was as familiar as the thorough bred cock- 
ney is with the scandal of the Green Room, or the 
bed-room mysteries of the leading houses of the Brit- 
ish aristocracy. As I rode a splendid steed, I was 
soon, to all outward appearance, as deeply interested 
in horse-history as he was. From horses to slaves 
the transition was easy. He had come from the 
North, he said, with anti-slavery sentiments. But 
he soon saw his error. He was a slaveholder 
now; and thought that it was not only right, but 
best for the nigger, for the white man to hold him as 
property. “My niggers, sir,” he said, “are well 
fed ; they ’ve got plenty of good clothing; if they ’re 
sick, I have to foot the doctor’s bill; I work as hard 


310 TILE ROVING EDITOR. 


as they do—and harder too; only, they work with 
their hands and I work with my head !” — 

I could not help laughing. For I never saw a 
lazier-looking fellow’ in my life; and, if there is any 
truth in ‘phrenological science, it might easily be dis- 
puted whether he had got any head to work with. 
I asked him how much he would sell Georgy for? 
Georgy was the brother of Millar. “ He would 
take,” he said, ‘“ one thousand dollars down. Nary 
cent less. No, sir, nary cent; he was a right smart 
boy and would bring that any day.” 

I waited in Liberty two or three days in the hope 
of meeting the boy. I would have waited some 
days longer, but my departure was hastened by an 
act of carelessness. Liberty had distinguished her- 
self, during the Kansas troubles, by her ultra devo- 
tion to “Southern Rights.” She sent out bands of 
brutal men to vote and fight for slavery in Kansas. ' 
When in my room, at the hotel, I perpetrated the 
following atrocity: 


ON LIBERTY IN MISSOURI. 


As maids (or wnmaids), if you'll pardon the new phrase, 

Who ne’er have trodden Virtue’s straight and narrow ways, 
But sell their foul desires, 

Whose path (says Solomon), leads downward to the grave 
And the infernal fires, 

Are styled by bacchanals and rakes, Vymphs (of the pave!) 
So, on slave soil, we see 

A town, renowned for despot deeds and ruffian bands, 

Self-styled by men with Freedom’s life-b]ood-dropping hands 
The Town of—LiseErty ! 


With my usual carelessness, I left this poetical abor- 
tion on the table. When I returned, it was gone. Now, 
as, upon reflection, I saw that the execution of these 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. SDL 


lines gave suflicient warrant and excuse for my own 
execution, I determined to depart without delay, 
which—sgaddling up my horse at once—I forthwith 
did, leaving the “right smart boy” in slavery—in 
Liberty. 

I heard nothing of the slave mother or her children, 
until, coming to New York to correct the final proofs 
of this volume, I met her and her son at the house of 
a gentleman of color. As the publisher required 
more copy still, 1 determined to narrate the history 
of this slave. It is subjoined. I reported her own 
language, as she replied to my questions. The ar- 
rangement of it, therefore, is all that I can claim. 

This woman has never seen the harshest features of 
slavery; for she lived in the State, where, of all 
others, it exists in its mildest form; she had, also, 
as she says, a kind old master, until the marriage of 
his children; and Mr. Hinckley, as is evident, 
although a Haynau and petty despot, never punished 
her with unusual severity or frequency. This, then, 
is a picture of slavery in its most pleasing aspects. 

Of many of the facts she relates I have personal 
knowledge; and her character for veracity is vouched 
for by every one who knows her. | 

Another word, before her narrative begins. She 
was the first slave, or one of the first slaves, ever held 
in Kansas. She was kept there in bondage, in a 
Military Reservation, under the immediate shadow 
of the Federal flag. The North, whether accounta- 
ble for or guiltless of slavery in the South, is morally 
responsible for its existence in the Federal forts. 
Will the Republicans see that their Congressional 
Representatives shall instantly withdraw this Federal 
protection, and instantly abolish slavery, wherever— 





312 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


according to their own theories—they have the power 
to reach and extinguish it? Unless the People com- 
pel them, they will never attempt it. But, to the 
slave mother’s narrative : 


AN OLD KENTUCKY HOME. 


“I was born and raised in Madison county, Ken- 
tucky. J will be thirty-nine next August. I be- 
longed to Mr. William Campbell. Iwas raised in 
the same family as Lewis Clarke, who has written a 
book about his life. My master lived on Silver 
Creek, about eight miles from Richmond. He owned 
nineteen or twenty slaves. My mother belonged to 
him; my father to Mr. Barrett, who lived about three 
miles off. My mother was always the cook of the 
family. J lived in Kentucky till I was about four- 
teen years of age, when old master moved off to Clay 
county, Missouri, carrying my mother with him, and 
all her children, excepting Millar, who had been sold 
to one of Mr. Campbell’s cousins. She had thirteen 
children at that time, and had one more in Missouri. 
One daughter died on the journey. 


A KIND MASTER. 


“They parted my father and mother; but, when 
in Indiana, old master went back and bought him. 
He left us in charge of a son-in-law, and rejoined us 
with my father in Missouri. My poor mother! It 
seems to me too bad to talk about it. You have no 
idee what it is to be parted ; nobody knows but them 
that’s seen it and felt it. The reason that old master 
went back to Kentucky and bought my father, was 
because my mother grieved so about being separated 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 313 


from him. She did not think about running away. 
Slaves did n’t long for freedom in those days; they 
‘were quiet and had plenty of privileges then. 

“ We were treated pretty well in Kentucky. Mr. 
Campbell was a kind master; one of the best there 
was. He had between six and seven hundred acres 
of land, but he did not push his hands; he was well 
off and did not seem to care; so we did pretty much 
as we pleased. 

Millar, who was left in Kentucky, was sold South ; 
none of us have ever heard of him since.” 


THEORY OF THE MARRIAGE OF SLAVES. 


“ We girls were all unmarried when we moved to 
Missouri, and excepting Millar, we all lived together 
till old master’s family began to set up for them- 
selves. Iwas the first that got married. It was the 
next year after we went to Missouri that I was mar- 
ried to Nathaniel Noll. There was about three 
hundred people at my wedding. When a respect- 
able colored girl gets married, it is the custom there, 
and in Kentucky, for all the neighbors, white and 
black, to come and see the ceremony. Colored peo- 
ple and whites associate more in the South than in 
the North. They go to parties together, and dance 
together. Colored people enjoy themselves more in 
the South than in any other part of the world, be- 
cause they don’t know their condition. 

“We were married by Mr. Chandler, at my mas- 
ter’s house. I remember the words he said after I 
was married ; says Mr. Campbell, says he, ‘You join 
these.people together; thats, till I choose to make a 


separation. I heard it myself. He went up to the 
14 


314 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


minister just as soon as the ceremony was over, and 
said it aloud, in presence of everybody in the room. 
I was young and happy, and didn’t think much 
ge i then, but I’ve often, often thought about it 
since.’ 


PRACTICE AT THE MARRIAGE OF SLAVEHOLDERS. 


‘Sam was the first of my master’s family married. 
When he married, the old man gave him Ellen and 
Daniel, my sister and brother. Daniel was twelve 
or thirteen; Ellen ten years old. She died soon 
after, from the effects of a cold, brought on by insuf- 
ficient clothing. Otherwise she was well treated. 

“ My husband belonged to Mr. Noll, who lived 
about seven miles below our place. Ze was half- 
brother to his master. His mother was his father’s 
slave. After we were married, he used to come up 
every Saturday night, and leave before daylight on 
Monday morning. He was treated pretty well. 

‘“T staid about four years with old master, until 
his daughter, Miss Margaret Jane, was married to 
Mr. Levi Hinkle. Then the old man gave me and 
iwo of my children to her. My oldest boy he kept. 
i had had a pretty easy life till I got with them. 
Hinkle lived at Fort Leavenworth ; he was a forage 
master. It was about fourteen years ago. I was 
taken immediately to Fort Leavenworth, with my 
two little children, and have never seen my husband 
since, excepting twice, both times within six months 
after Mr. Hinkle’s marriage. Nathaniel came up to 
Fort Leavenworth three months after our separation ; 
and then, again, three months from that visit. Last 
tame his master told him that he would never allow 
him to leave the State again. That is fourteen years 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 315 


ago; I have never seen him since. My boy, Millar, 
says that he saw him recently, and that he lives with 
another woman, and has a family by her.” 


THE OLD FOLKS’ FAMILY. 


“ Daniel, my brother, was sold by Sam. Campbell 
to a man in Clay county, and lives there yet. 

“* Mahala, my oldest sister, was given to Mr. Green 
White, who was married to Mary Ann Campbell. 
She got married after she went home with them. 
She had five children by her husband, and then she 
was sold away from them. Her husband, Joe Brown, 
was driven out of the house some three or four years 
before she was sold; he belonged to another master, 
and Mr. White did not lke him about his house. I 
know nothing about Joe; his wife was sold some- 
where up in Andrew county, and I have heard no- 
thing of her since. I do not think she has ever seen 
her children from that time. I know that four of 
them are with Mr. White yet, and that she is not 
there; and that, about two months after she was 
taken away, her oldest boy, Henry, was sold down 
South. My son has kept track of them. 

* Mahala told me she was treated very badly by 
her mistress. She often tried to whip Mahala; but 
as she was sickly she couldn’t do it—for we girls 
never would allow a woman to strike us—and so she 
had to get her husband to doit. He often whipped 
her ; sometimes stripped her, and sometimes not.” 


A GREAT MISFORTUNE. 


“Serena and Manda, my other sisters, were both 
sold out of the family, privately, to a man of the 


316 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


name of Elisha Arrington,* of Platte county, Mis- 
souri. He lives on the prairie between Fort Leaven- 
worth and Clay county, near the dividing line of 
Platte. I cannot say much of the life of Mandy, as 
I have only seen her once since. Mr. Arrington 
owned two men also. Both of my sisters were mar- 
ried while they belonged to him. Mr. Arrington 
met a great misfortune, and sold all his slaves, and 
swore he would never keep another nigger about 
him, but compel his daughter to do the kitchen work 
herself.” 3 

“What do you mean,” I asked, “when you say a 
great misfortune ?” 

She hesitated, but finally told me that “ his daugh- 
ter bore a child to one of his slaves. The boy was 
frightened, and ran away to Kansas, but was brought 
back in chains and sold. Manda was sold to a Mr. 
Jacks. Mr. Jacks is a very nice sort of man, but 
his wife treated Manda very badly. Our family are 
all high-spirited, and would never let a woman strike 
them. Zhat’s the reason why we've been sold so 
often. 

‘Serena was sold to a man named Yates, who 
lived up in Savannah. He bought her husband too. 
Mr. Yates kept her about seven years. None of us 
knew where she was all the time. She had two or 
three children. Then he sold her, but kept her 
children. She has been sold twice since; each time 
with her husband, but each tume away from her 
children. MWe belongs now to a man named Links, 
who lives somewhere in Platte county.” 


* Or Errington, Malinda did not know how it was spelt. 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. POL 


THE OTHER SISTER SOLD. 


“¢ Maria (another sister) was sold by Mr. Campbell 
next winter after I was married. Poor little thing! 
she was taken out of the yard, one day, as she was 
running about—so young and happy-like. It almost 
broke old mother’s heart. Campbell was an old vil- 
lain, he was, although he did not whip us often, and 
fed us well. Nobody but an old villain would have 
treated poor old mother so, after she had worked for 
him so long and faithful. Campbell would always 
make us take our own part, even against his own 
young one, or anybody else’s: he would n’t allow 
anybody to whip us except himself. Maria was sold 
to a man named Phelps.” 

“The Congressman ?” I asked. 

“¢ No,” she said, sneeringly, “ not that old Phelps: 
he was not smart enough: this Phelps lived north of 
Estelle’s Mills, near Clinton. She was not treated 
like human—she was treated like a dog by both of 
them. Isaw her once at Phelps’s; she was twenty- 
one or twenty-two then. But we did not get much 
chance to talk; I staid there only a few minutes. 
She told me she was treated very badly ; she looked 
broken-hearted, poor thing ; she wasn’t clad decent ; 
she had not a shoe to her feet.. I saw the marks of 
the whip on her neck, and shoulders and arms. Poor 
child! it made me sad to see her. She had two 
young ones: but I do n’t know whether she was mar- 
ried or not.” 


FATE OF HER BROTHERS. 


“ Howard, my brother, the old man gave to his 
son John, who took to gambling and horse-racing, 
and got into debt ; then he mortgaged him to a man 


318 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


by the name of Murray, of Platte city. He is a very 
good master, I hear. Howard is with him now. 

‘“‘ Lewis ran away into Kansas six or seven years 
before the wars there ; but they brought him back in 
irons, and he is there yet. Lewis was married to a 
girl that belonged to another man, and had two 
children by her. Then Mr. Williams, who owned 
her, moved into Jackson county, and took her and 
her young ones with him. Lewis has never seen 
them since.” 


THE OLD AND YOUNG FOLKS. 


“¢ My youngest sister, I do n’t know anything about. 

“¢ Angeline, another sister, was sold to Col. Park, 
of Parkville. She is with him yet. He isa kind 
master ; but you know more of her than I do. 

“My old father is dead. The separation of our 
family broke the hearts of my father and mother. 
It was dreadful to see the way my old mother took 
on about it. You could hear her screaming every 
night as she was dreaming about them. It seemed 
so hard. No sooner was she beginning to get 
sort-of reconciled to one child being gone, than an- 
other was taken and sold away from her. My poor 
old mother! It was awful to see her. And yet they 
say we have no feelings!” | 

The relation of these facts so excited Malinda, that 
it was with difficulty that she could compose herself 
to conclude the narrative. I told her to confine her- 
self now to her personal history. 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 


“Twas taken to Fort Leavenworth some two or 
three years—it may be more—before the Mexican 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 319 


war. My oldest boy was three years old then; now 
he is twenty-two. 

“My oldest boy, as I said, was kept at home. My 
youngest child, Julia, was about three years old; she 
died about two years afterwards. Georgy was but 
a boy.* Oh! how lused to worry! Oh! I wasn’t 
nobody. It did n’t seem asif I keered for anything or 
anybody in the world. I was worrying about my 
husband and boy. Then he treated me badly, and 
she treated me badly. I was well clothed, and well 
fed; they couldn’t have’ starved me if they had 
wanted to; for I was their body servant and house- 
keeper, and had everything to look after. They 
allowed me everything. We got along pretty well 
the first two or three years. She did not begin 
to get ugly till she began to have children. Then 
she began to get ugly. They were bad and it wor- 
ried her. She did not bring them up right. She 
never was pleasant after she began to have children. 
You would not have thought it was the same 
woman.” 


SLAVERY IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 


“¢ She seemed to be very jealous of me. She seemed 
to think her husband liked me too well. She could 
not bear him to give me anything, or to ‘say any- 
thing in my favor. When he went to Weston and 
got anything for me, she would fight about it; and, 
sometimes, she would get hold of it, and not let me 
have it; then he would insist on her giving it up; 
and then they would fight. I attended to my work 
well, and he treated me well; but she could not bear 
to hear me praised. This sort of tyranny, occasioned 


* He is still in slavery. 


320 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


by jealousy, is one of the most common causes of the 
bad treatment of the domestic servants of the South. 
It is far more common than anybody knows of; for 
Southern gentlemen, generally, are very partial to 
colored girls. This makes a continual feud in fami- 
lies.” 

“ Does not the church take notice of these things 
whenever they become public ?” I inquired. 

“No! Southern clergymen are no better than 
worldly folks. J know of my own self about them. 
I have known Southern ministers, my own self, make 
impudent advances to me in the very Sunday schools. 
Colored women know what they are. 

““My mistress used to go home every two or 
three months. She always took me with her; she 
would not trust me alone at the Fort. She never 
tried to strike me at Fort Leavenworth, because her 
husband would not allow it. When she got home to 
her father’s, she tried to get him to whip me. He 
refused. One day, when I had her child in my arms, 
she came up behind me, and struck me with a broom 
over the head. I had a good mind to throw her 
child into the fire, but I restrained my temper, and 
didn’t say a word to her. When we got back to 
Fort Leavenworth, she boasted to Aunt Jennie (her 
husband’s other slave), that she had struck me once 
and would keep itup now. I heard her, and said, loud 
enough for her to hear me, that if she ever laid her 
hand on me again, she would not get off so easy 
as she did before. After that, she seemed afraid to 
try. But, one morning, she got angry at me, seized a 
broom, and attempted to strike me with it. I seized 
hold of another, and made at her. She didn’t dare 
to strike. She told her husband about it. He tied 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 821 


me up, stripped me, and lashed me, till the blood 
rained off my back and arms. Then he put hand- 
cuffs on me and threatened to sell me South. I 
talked back to him, and told him that I wished he 
would sell me. It makes me mad to think about it. 
When these Yankees come out to be slaveholders, 
are n’t they fiends ?” 

“Was Hinkle,” I asked, “a New Englander?” 

“ No,” she said, “‘ he wasa Pennsylvanian. Well: 
after he got through, I told him that if his wife ever 
tried to strike me, I would half kill her. She never 
did try again. Lut of all the devils that ever lived, 
she was the worst. She tormented me in every way 
she could, and make me right miserable, I tell you. 

“T found out that Hinkle was trying to sell me, 
and sought secretly to find a master to suit me. A 
gentleman who knew me—a Missouri slaveholder— 
offered to buy me, take me with him to California, 
and liberate me after two years. When Hinkle 
found out that I had a chance to be free, he refused 
to sell me, and he and my friend had a regular row 
about it. The way Col. E did abuse him, and 
Northern men who held slaves, made him terrible 
angry. Hinkle then tried to make me contented ; 
denied that he had intended to sell me, and told me 
he would never part with me if I would be a good 
girl. I told him I would never be contented in his 
service again, and he had better find a purchaser as 
soon as he could do it. 

“Soon after this quarrel, he went to Pennsylvania 
to see his folks and his wife placed me in the care of 
Mr. White, her brother-in-law. They treated me 
like a lady, excepting that they watched me like a 
dog. They were afraid that I would run away, and 

14* 








322 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


never trusted me a minute out of their sight. They 
took me to meeting in their own carriage, and made 
me come back in the same way. They made me 
sleep in their bedroom, on a mattress on the floor, but 
paid no regard to my feelings, any more than if I was 
a cat. 

“When they found that I would not be contented 
nohow, they agreed to sell me. Major Ogden knew 
me at the Fort; and, when he heard I was for sale, 
came down and asked me if I was willing that he 
should buy me. He said that he would only keep 
me until I paid for myself in work. He would allow 
me ten dollars a month. But he could not buy my 
children. 

“T agreed to go with him. He would not have 
bought me unless I had been willing to go. Ileda 
first-rate life. JI had more work to do than ever in 
my life before; but I had plenty of privileges, and did 
not complain when I was treated so well. I was 
thirteen years at Fort Leavenworth, eight years with 
Hinkle, and five years with the Major’s family. 

“ Before my time was out, the Major took me to 
Connecticut. He was ordered West with his regi- 
ment, and died at Fort Riley. I did not try to run 
away; I was willing to work my time out. But, if 
he had wished me to return to a Slave State. I would 
not have gone with him. I would not trust any one 
with my freedom. ‘A bird in the hand,’ I thought, 
‘was worth two in the bush.’ These Northern people, 
when they taste slavery, like it as well as anybody. 
When they change, they are so different. 

“Thave been free, in every way, for two years now.” 

Here the narrative of the mother ends. The first 
thing that she did, after having faithfully carried ont 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. $23 


her contract with the Major’s family, was to work till 
she saved the sum of fifty dollars. That amount she 
placed in the bank, as the first installment for the pur- 
chase of her son at Parkville. It heads the long list 
of subscriptions which ultimately enabled her to buy 
him. I find that the fourth name on the list is the 
Editor of the Jowrnal of Commerce. The world does 
move after all! 

She travelled from city to city, and from State to 
State, receiving pecuniary aid from hundreds of per- 
sons—in sums varying from twenty-five cents up to 
five and ten dollars. The master of her boy unfortu- 
nately heard of her zeal and success, and, with truly 
characteristic barbarity, raised the price of his slave 
to $1,200. That this amount was duly paid, this 
copy of his certificate of freedom will show: 


FREE PAPERS. 


nolo all Men by these Presents, That we, John H. Nash, and 
William Nash, of Platte County, Missouri, for and in considera- 
tion of twelve hundred dollars, to us in hand paid by Henry 
Rawles, of New York city, through his agent, John S. Andrews, 
the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged, do by these pre- 
sents grant, bargain and sell unto Malinda Noll, his mother, her 
executors, administrators and assigns, a negro man, slave for 
life, named Miller Noll, now of the age of about twenty-two 
years, together with all our right, title and interest in and to 
said slave. To have and to hold said negro slave, above bar- 
gained and sold, to the said Malinda Noll, her executors, ad- 
ministrators and assigns forever. 

In testimony whereof we have hereunto set our hands and 


seals, this eleventh day of November, 1858. 
DOORS 
Joun H. Nasu, s SEAL & 
DEOMI 
DOLORES 
SEAL. 
OES 


Wn. Nasu. 


324 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


State of Missouri. 

Be it Remembered, That on this eleventh day of November, 
1858, before me, William McNeill Clough, a Notary Public, 
within and for the County of Platte, and State of Missouri, per- 
sonally appeared the above-written John H. Nash and William 
Nash, who are personally known to me to be the same persons 
whose names are subscribed to the above instrument of writing, 
as their voluntary act and deed for the uses and purposes therein 
contained. 

In testimony whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed 
my Official seal, at office in Parkville, this 11th day of Novem- 
ber, 1858. 


PLaTTE County, 


ee! Wir11am MoNem. Croven, 
SEAL : 
$ $8008 xe Notary Publie. 


“ All men,” says a great American State paper, 
“are endowed by their Creator with certain inalien- 
able rights, and among these are life, liberty and the 
pursuit of happiness.” 

What a comment on this specious declaration is 
this American bill of sale of a son to his own mother! 


bl 


FELONS IN FODDER. 


Kawsas, for four years past, has held up the mirror 
to modern Democracy ; and in its history the true 
character of this subtile and stupendous despotism— 
every hidden and hideous feature of it—is faithfully 
and unerringly delineated. Whatever, elsewhere, its 
partisans and supporters may pretend or say, there, 
by the pressing exigencies of the pro-slavery cause, 
and the frequent necessity for prompt, decisive and 
energetic action, Democracy—as represented by its 
chosen and honored Federal Executives—has stood 
forth undisguisedly and boldly as the special and 
zealous champion of the Southern Aristocracy. 

Let us briefly review the history of its most promi- 
nent officials in Kansas—the unerring mirror of its 
secret aims and hidden aspirations. 

Mr. Reeder, the first governor, a conservative 
among conservatives—a Democrat to whom the Fu- 
gitive Slave Law, even, was neither repulsive in cha- 
racter nor in any feature unconstitutional—a devout 
worshipper at the shrine of Squatter Sovereignty and 
of its high priests Messrs. Pierce and Douglas—was 
promptly disgraced and dismissed from office, as soon 
as it was found that he would not become a servile 


and passive instrument of iniquity in the blood- 
825 





326 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


stained hands of Atchison and his Missouri co- 
horts.* 

Mr. Shannon, his successor, who signalized his dis- 
embarkment by proclaiming, from the door of a com- 
mon tavern in Westport, that he was in favor of sla- 
very and “the laws” of the Missourians, as repre- 
sented by the Shawnee Territorial legislature, was 
retained in office and sustained by the party, although 
notoriously incapable and a sot, until the record of 
his innumerable misdemeanors and follies, official 
and personal, endangered the success of the Demo- 
cracy in pending State elections; or, rather, until he 
resolutely and publicly declared at Lecompton that 
he would not any longer be deceived and used by the 
ruffians. 

Mr. Woodson, the Secretary of State, thrice the 
Acting Governor of Kansas—a man who never fal- 
tered in sustaining the Missouri mobs—who hounded 
on the Carolina and Alabama robbers to the sack of 
Lawrence and the desolation of the Free State settle- 
ments—was retained in office, and with honor, until, 
on the acceptance of Geary, it was necessary to re- 
place him by Dr. Gihon, whose appointment that 
gentleman insisted on as an indispensable “‘ condition 
precedent” to it. Was Woodson dismissed? No! 
the faithful—the wnfalteringly faithful—are never so 
disgraced ; except, indeed, at rare intervals and for a 
brief period only. He is now one of the chiefs of 


* IT may mention here that after Reeder was dismissed, Kansas, un- 
til recently—as long as the pro-slavery party had the remotest hopes 
of success—was permitted to have only two even nominally Free 
State officers; one of whom (Day) was murdered and a ruffian ap- 
pointed in his place, and the other (Shoemaker) was first supplanted 
by a ruffian and then murdered. 


27 


co 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 


the land office at Kickapoo—a faithful town and a 
well-rewarded one! 

To Geary’s administration, the Democracy, some- 
times, in free-soil districts—never in their Southern 
strongholds !—attribute the freedom of Kansas, and 
the election of Buchanan! His fate is familiar to 
every one. The moment that he dared to resist the 
secret will of the Slave Power, as uttered by its 
faithful instrument Lecompte; when he said that a 
Missourian should not be bailed for murdering a poor 
Yankee cripple, the signal was given from the win- 
dows of the White House, and the remorseless axe 
fell! Such heterodoxy was not to be tolerated. “ By 
God!” said Mr. Kelley, a Kansas postmaster, once, 
“¢ when it comes that a man can be hanged for only 
killing a d——d Yankee abolitionist, I'll leave the 
country.”* This sentiment seems to have received 
high official indorsement; for Lecompte was sus- 
tained, and Geary—was permitted to retire. 

After Geary came Walker: and when zs eyes 
were opened and /zs tongue spake against the too 
transparent frauds of the party in power, his name at 
once became the prophet of his fate: and his name 
was Walker! 

Stanton entered Lawrence with threats on his 
tongue and the spirit of slavery—the desire of domi- 
nation—in his heart; but when he mingled with the 
people, heard the story of their wrongs, saw the 
efforts, unjust and violent, of his party to continue 
their oppression, the scales fell from zs eyes also, 
and he ceased to kick against the pricks. What 
then? ‘Off with his head,” said the South. “ Let 





* He did leave—in a hurry, too, 


328 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


Alabama howl,’ said Buchanan. “ Off with his 
head ”—again’ did the South repeat the order, but 
this time in a sterner tone. Buchanan did not dare 
to disobey —“ he winced beneath the Southern thun- 
der,” as Mr. Bigler phrased it—and Mr. Stanton was 
dismissed. 

The next governor was Denver, a Platte County 
man, recently from California, a noted duellist there, 
whose character and conduct in that country secured 
for him the terrible title of the Butcher. The 
Butcher, however, came too late, and had sense 
enough toseeit. There was an odor of fight around the 
country, too, that somewhat alarmed him; visions of 
duels haunted his uneasy slumbers; he thought, upon 
the whole, that to attempt to enslave such a people 
might be, and probably would be, an unhealthy 
operation. So, we find, that he confined his exer- 
tions to the pocketing of important bills, charters, 
and resolutions. A sort of mincemeat butcher, 
this; afraid of the ox’s horns, indeed, but willing 
enough, if need be, to stand behind a fence and goad 
it gently. 

His successor is Mr. Sam. Medary, a Democratic 
midwife of territorial governments, who was thus 
rewarded for his attempt, in Minnesota, to swamp 
the ballots of American citizens by the fraudulent 
and literally “naked votes” of semi-civilized and 
unnaturalized Indians. 

If the history of their executive officers demonstrates 
that the Democracy are the special champions of 
slavery, no less clearly is the fact apparent and trans- 
parent in their judicial appointments for Kansas. 

Lecompte, Elmore, and Johnson were the first 
supreme judges. Judges Elmore and Johnson were 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS- 329 


discharged, with Governor Reeder, nominally for 
land speculations; but Elmore, really, as he himself 
declared in his letter to Mr. Cushing, in order that 
the dismission of two acknowledged Free State 
officials might not give it the appearance of pro- 
slavery championship. This occurred in the earlier 
history of the Territory, before the Democracy had 
entirely thrown off their disguises. 

Lecompte holds office still. No man doubts his 
professional incapacity for the high position of Chief 
Justice, but no one can ever doubt his eminent 
ability to advance the iniquitous designs of the Slave 
Power. Or all Judges, since Jeffrey disgraced the 
bench, he has probably been the most subservient to 
the will of tyranny. He neither falters nor revolts 
at its utmost demands. One specimen of his legal 
erudition will suffice. Judge Wakefield was arrested 
by Titus and his men and brought before Lecompte. 
He demanded that the writ of arrest should be read 
to him. Lecompte examined the books, and inquired 
of his clerk, but could find neither record of com- 
plaint nor note of the issue of any writ. He informed 
Mr. Wakefield of this fact, and then advised him to 
take out a writ of habeas corpus ! 

A brief examination of Judge Lecompte’s record 
in Kansas will explain why he has retained his place 
of honor so long and undisturbed, notwithstanding 
the incessant and angry remonstrances of the people 
of the Territory. 

Here is a brief and incomplete chronological note 
of it : 

Judge Lecompte, Chief-Justice, April 80, 1855, 
addresses and takes prominent part in a border ruf- 
fian meeting at Leavenworth. by which a Vigilance 


300 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


Committee is appointed, who notify all “ Abolition- 
ists” to leave Kansas, and drive several of the Free 
State men out of the city. He subsequently ap- 
pointed Lyle, one of these ruffians (who participat- 
ed in the tar and feathering of Phillips), clerk of 
his court, and refused to strike his name from the 
roll of attorneys when a motion to that effect was 
made by Judge Shankland. He appointed Scott 
Boyle and Hughes, two brutal ruffians engaged in 
the transaction, to other minor offices in his court. 

July, 1855. Published a letter to the Legislature, 
indorsing their action, and declaring (before any case 
was before him, and, therefore, extra-judicially), that 
their conduct and enactments were legal in every 
respect—thus, without precedent, prejudging a point 
of law which might subsequently have involved, as 
it did involve, the legal rights and titles of thousands 
of citizens. 

Aug. 30. Invited the Legislature, by special letter 
read in the House, to a grand collation, or, rather, 
what the Indians style “a big drunk,” and then 
addressed the inebriated assembly, eulogizing them 
for their patriotism and wisdom, and indorsing their 
infamous code of laws. 

Nov. 14. Attended a “law and order meeting” of 
ruffians, held at Leavenworth, and declared his deter- 
mination to enforce the laws at all hazards: and this 
after the delivery of the most sanguinary speeches 
by Calhoun and other office-holders, in the course of 
which Judge Perkins (one of the most conservative 
of them all—subsequently a District Judge), told 
them to “Trust to their rifles, and to enforce the 
laws, if abolition blood flowed as free as the turbid 
waters of the Missouri.” 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. oak 


May 15. Lecompte made a violent partisan speech 
to the Grand Jury (reported by Mr. Leggett, who 
was one of them), in which he earnestly urged the 
conviction of the Topeka Free-State officers for high 
treason, but uttered not asyllable about the murderers 
of Barber and other Northern martyrs. This jury 
was packed by Sheriff Jones--thirteen pro-slavery 
to three Free-State men. The jury became a caucus, 
the pro-slavery members making abusive speeches 
against all the Free-State leaders as Massachusetts 
paupers; and then found indictments against several 
prominent citizens for the crime of high-treason and 
usurpation of office. 

Lecompte (at the same time) issued writs for the 
destruction of the Free-State Hotel as a nuisance. 
The only evidence brought against it, according to 
Mr. Leggett, was the fact that it was the property of 
the Emigrant Aid Co., and had been the head-quar- 
ters of the people who assembled at Lawrence when 
it was threatened (in December) by a Missouri mob. 

Issues writs, also, for the destruction of the Herald 
of Freedom and Lree-State newspapers, and against 
a bridge over the Wakarusa River, built by a Free 
State man named Blanden, because he refused to 
take out a charter for it, and thereby acknowledge 
the validity of the Territorial laws. 

Noy. 8th. Releases the murderer of Buffum on 
straw bail. Geary has him re-arrested. Lecompte 
again liberates him. He is sustained by Buchanan. 

Liberates, also, on straw bail (both bondsmen 
Federal office-holders in these cases), the scalper of 
Mr. Hops, the notorious /uggitt, who bet and won 
a pair of boots on the wager that he would have an 
abolition scalp in six hours. 


332 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


Last summer, he liberated Jack Henderson when 
arrested under the Territorial laws, for stuffing 
ballot-boxes at the Delaware Crossing. 

To fancy that such a man, so faithful and so 
prompt, could ever be disgraced by the Democracy, 
was an indication, on the part of the people of 
Kansas, of the existence of extraordinary powers of 
imagination. 

Elmore was dismissed by Pierce, it is true, but has 
been reinstated by Buchanan. He has been, and 
still is, I believe, the largest slaveholder in the ter- 
ritory. Although conservative both by nature and 
education, he was the captain of a company of 
ruffians during the civil wars. At Tecumseh, during 
Geary’s administration, he perpetrated a most cow- 
ardly outrage on the person of Mr. Kagi, the corre- 
spondent of the WVational Hra. The store of a Free- 
State man had been robbed at Tecumseh. Law there 
was none. The boys of Topeka threatened venge- 
ance unless the case was examined. A committee 
was appointed by the ruffians at Tecumseh. It con- 
sisted of the person suspected of the robbery! pro- 
slavery; Judge Elmore, pro-slavery, and a Free- 
State man. ‘The evidence, full and positive, was 
given in. The robber, of course, objected to restitu- 
tion, and the Free-State man was in favor of justice ! 
the decision, therefore, devolved om Judge Elmore. 
He said he could not make up his mind about it. 
Mr. Kagi remarked, after recording the decision in 
the Topeka Zribune, that, although Pierce had dis- 
missed Mr. Elmore for land speculations, he evi- 
dently might have assumed the stronger ground of 
incompetency; for surely a man who could not de- 
cide, after explicit testimony and on mature reflec 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. ooo 


tion, whether a convicted robber should be punished 
or make restitution, was hardly qualified for a seat 
on the Supreme Bench of any Territory! <A few 
days after the publication of the paper, Mr. Kagi 
again visited Tecumseh, for the purpose of reporting 
the proceedings of the court, then in session there. 
Judge Elmore advanced towards him, and asked— 
just as the assassin Brooks asked Massachusetts’ 
great senator on a memorable occasion, when pre- 
pared to perpetrate a similar outrage—“Is your 
name Kagi?® Hardly had the word “Yes,” been 
uttered, before Kagi was rendered nearly insensible, 
stunned and blinded by a savage blow on the head 
from a bludgeon in the hands of Elmore. [rom an 
instinct familiar to Kansas men—hardly knowing 
- what he did—he groped for his pistol. Before he 
could draw it, several shots were fired at him by 
Elmore, and one shot by the United States Prosecut- 
ing Attorney, who was perched at a window over- 
head. Kagi rewarded the cowardly assassin by.one 
shot—fired at random—which rendered him, it is 
said, a eunuch for life! 

Elmore was a member of the Lecompton Constitu- 
tional Convention. At first, he opposed the more 
radical pro-slavery features of the constitution and in- 
sisted on its submission to the people. But he sud- 
denly faltered, and made a speech in favor of the 
Calhoun dodge. It was understood—openly said at 
the time—that for this service he would be rewarded 
and deserved to be rewarded by aseat on the Bench; 
for, if he had adhered to his original plan, the dodge 
would undoubtedly have been defeated, and the con- 
stitution buried beneath an Alps-on-Apeninnes of 
freemen’s votes. The prediction is fulfilled. Elmore 


354 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


is again a judge of the Supreme Court of Kansas. 
He has received the reward of consenting to endea- 
vor to impose a fraudulent constitution on an unwil- 
ling people. 

J ohnson has noé been reinstated. ue: opposed Le- 
compton. 

When Lawrence was surrounded by a Missouri 
mob, in December, 1856, a peaceful and good man 
was going homeward with his brother and two neigh- 
bors. He was pursued, shot at, and fell from his horse 
a pale, bleeding corpse. “I hit him; you ought to 
have seen the dust fly,” said an office-holder, speaking 
of the murder. The murdered man was Barber; the 
office-holder Clark. For so meritorious a servant of 
the Slave Power one lucrative office did not suffice. 
His brother-in-law (a person who can neither read nor 
write) was appointed to a high position in the Land 
Office at Fort Scott—the murderer drawing.the 
salary of it. When he became obnoxious to the 
people there, by his frequent marauding excursions 
and persecutions of the Free-State men, and was 
obliged to flee for his life, Buchanan opened his arms 
to receive him, and gave him the fat berth of a pur- 
ser in the navy—a life-long oflice.* 

Jones—faithful sheriff—whose recent presence, 
when the war raged, was indicated by sacked vil- 
lages or desolated farms, has been recently rewarded 
still further for his services in Kansas by the Marshal- 
ship of Atrizonia Territory. 

Clarkson, notorious as a bully and ballot-box stuf 


* Since the above was in type, Clark has been found dead on the 
prairie! He met his fate in returning to Lecompton to close up his 
business there. 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 335 


fer, long held the office of Postmaster of the city of 
Leavenworth. 

Col. Boone, of Westport, who made himself con- 
spicuous, in 1856, in raising ruffian recruits in Mis- 
souri, for the purpose of invading Kansas, was Post- 
master of that place until he retired from business. 

He was succeeded by H. Clay Pate, the correspon- 
dent of the Missouri /epublican, a man publicly ac- 
cused by his own towns-people of robbing the mail, 
who is known to have sacked a Free-State store at 
Palmyra, and to have committed numerous other high- 
way robberies. But, although these facts were noto- 
rious, he obtained and still holds the appointment of 
Postmaster (at a point convenient for the surveillance 
of the interior of the Kansas mails), in order to com- 
pensate him for his disgraceful and overwhelming 
defeat by old John Brown at Black Jack. 

Mr. Stringfellow, the most ultra advocate of pro- 
slavery propagandism in the West, at the instance of 
the friends of the Administration was elected to the 
Speakership of the House of Representatives; and 
the Rev. Tom Johnson, of the Shawnee Mission, who 
enjoys the unenviable notoriety of having first intro- 
duced negro slavery into Kansas proper—long before 
the Territory was opened—was elected by the same 
influence President of the Council. It is said that 
his sons are provided for, also. 

Mr. Barbee, an ignorant and debauched drunkard— 
a man hardly ever seen sober—having been effectual- 
ly used as a tool in a military capacity, was appointed 
U.S. District Attorney, a position he retained till 
the day of his death. One instance of his aptitude 
for such a post may be recorded as a specimen of De- 
mocratic appointments to legal positions in Kansas. 


356 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


At Tecumseh, one day, after vainly endeavoring, in 
thick, guttural accents, to open a case, he exclaimed 
—‘“ Move-journ—please—move”— 

“Gentlemen,” said Judge Cato, “I adjourn the 
case, as you will notice that the United States is 
drunk.” | 

Cato himself, when in power, frequently left the 
bench for the purpose of “ taking a smile,” as west- ~ 
ern people phrase the practice of imbibing watered 
strychnine at the bar of a low grocery; and more 
than once the Counsellors, Sheriff and Jury, weary 
of waiting for his Honor’s return, left the Court for 
the purpose of rejoining him, and indulging in his 
habits also. 

The mention of bar-rooms naturally reminds us of 
another celebrated Kansas official, whose name, quite 
recently, was in all men’s mouths. I refer to Mr. 
John Calhoun. He has been a faithful servant of 
both Administrations. As early as November, 1856, 
he distinguished himself, at the Law and Order 
Convention at Leavenworth, as an ultra and blood- 
thirsty member of the pro-slavery party. On that 
occasion he hastened to inform the people that— 

“T.”—this Prince of political forgers—“I could 
not trust an abolitionist or a free-soiler out of sight.” 

That—“ They ”—the Free-State men— would 
kneel to the devil and call him God, if he would 
only help them to steal a nigger.” 

And again that—‘ I””—this veracious chief of the 
tribe of Candlebox—* I would not believe one of 
them under oath more than the vilest wretch that 
licks the slime from the meanest penitentiary.” 

He “declared himself ready,” too, to “ enforce 
the Jaws”—the enactments of the Missouri mob— 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 307 
and ‘to spill his life’s blood if necessary to do 
ia 

Unluckily he did not deem it necessary to shed his 
blood—as the future historian and probably Cal- 
houn’s own posterity will record with regret. With 
Falstaff’s valor and Falstaff’s prudence, he kept him- 
self distant from the battle-field—reserving his 
strength and ability for another day. His services 
to slavery, in the Lecompton Constitutional Conven- 
tion, are known to every one. By adroit manage- 
ment, and the skillful use of Federal money, he pro- 
cured the passage of the fraudulent constitution, 
without a “‘ submission clause,” and so arranged the 
subsequent proceedings to be had under the instru- 
ment, that, had it passed through Congress “ naked,” 
the Legislature might have met at Fort Leavenworth 
and elected two pro-slavery United States senators. 
The political complexion of that assembly was in his 
own hands. The defeat of the conspiracy in Con- 
gress prevented the completion of the plot. 

Jack Henderson, his creature—he whose action in 
the matter of the Delaware crossing put everything 
in Calhoun’s power—United States Senators, State 
Government and Legislature—the continuance or 
the abolishment of slavery in Kansas—as far, at 
least, as political power, under the peculiar circum- 
stances, could have affected slavery, was received at 
the White House with honor, closeted with Buchanan, 
and appointed a Secret Territorial Mail Agent. , 

Buford’s marauders were presented with arms, and 
paid by the day for sacking Lawrence and desolating 
the surrounding region; and one of their number, a 
Mr. Fane, was appointed by the President United 


States Marshal. 
15 


338 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


Titus was made a Colonel of Militia, and he and 
his men were promptly paid; while Captain Walker 
and his Free-State company, organized at the same 
time and in the same manner, under the same ar- 
rangement, have never been remunerated for their 
services to this day. 

General Whitfield, bogus delegate, the leader of 
several gangs of the invaders of Kansas—on whose 
hands rests the blood of many martyrs, slain by his 
ruffians—after failing to be returned to Congress, 
was made a chief in the Land Office at Kickapoo, 
where he now resides. 

Mr. Preston, a Virginian, for overhauling a peace- 
ful emigrant train, abusing the Northern people who . 
composed it, and throwing their bedding and cloth- 
ing on the miry soil, to be trodden on by the 
cavalry, has also been rewarded with a lucrative po- 
sition in the same establishment. 

Who has not heard of Colonel Emory—a man 
notorious—the husband of a woman who once 
offered to a company of South Carolina ruffians to 
marry any one who would bring her the scalp of a 
Yankee! MRich as she was, and poor and ruffianly as 
they were, not one of them accepted the offer. 
Emory was Secretary of State in General Walker’s 
ragamuffin “State” of Southern California. In 
Kansas, after his appointment as mail contractor, he 
signalized his devotion to Democracy by ordering a 
quiet Free-State German to be shot down, like a dog, 
in the streets, for expressing his disapprobation of the 
murder of Phillips, that noble and heroic martyr 
whom, also, he had so brutally massacred. For these 
services, and for loaning his horses—for he kept a 
livery stable—to the South Carolina ruffians, he was 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 7 389 


appointed the comptroller of the Land Office at 
Ogden. Thus: the murderer of Phillips, as well as 
every man who had outraged his person a year be- 
fore, has been rewarded with government offices. 

The press has not been forgotten. Three Free- 
State offices in Kansas have been destroyed by vio- 
lence—two by order of Judge Lecompte and the 
official posse of the United States Marshal; one (the 
Leavenworth Territorial Legister, a Douglas Demo- 
cratic paper), by a legally organized Territorial mi- 
litia company—the same men who s0 savagely 
butchered R. P. Brown—the infamous Kickapoo 
Rangers. 

The pro-slavery press, on the other hand, has also 
been rewarded for ¢és success. The Squatter Sove- 
reign, once published in the town of Atchison, was 
edited by Mr. Speaker Stringfellow, already men- 
tioned, and Mr. Robert 8. Kelley. This Kelley has 
always advocated the most blood-thirsty- measures 
against the Free-State men—urging their expulsion 
always, and often their extermination. He advocated, 
also, a dissolution of the Union, and the formation of 
a Southern Confederacy. In the pro-slavery camp 
once, he entered the tent where a young Free-State 
man, a prisoner, lay dangerously ill, and savagely 
yelled, “I thirst for blood,” an expression which, in 
the debilitated condition of the invalid’s health, 
superinduced a brain fever, from which he did not 
recover for many months. This man, also, was the 
leader of the mob which tarred and feathered the 
Rey. Pardee Butler, and then put him on a raft on 
the Missouri River—for presuming, in a private con- 
versation, to deprecate the lynching of a man who 
had suffered there a few days before for his political 


340 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


belief, and also for saying that he himself was in 
favor of making Kansas.a I'ree State. This man was 
appointed postmaster at Atchison; his brother-in- 
law is postmaster still at Doniphan; his paper re- 
ceived the government patronage, and printed the 
United States laws. 

The Herald, published at Leavenworth, although 
neither so honest in expression, nor violent in policy, 
was equally Satanic in its conduct. It slandered the 
murdered Free-State martyrs and the Free-State 
cause; and by its insidious misrepresentations and 
appeals did more than any other journal to prolong 
the troubles in Kansas. Its editor-in-chief was ap- 
pointed Brigadier-General of the militia; its associ- 
ate editor and Washington correspondent was re- 
warded with a consulship; and the paper has been 
the official organ of the administration in Kansas, the 
publisher of its laws and its bribery advertisements, 
from its establishment till now. 

Its present associate in these advantages is the 
Herald of Hreedom, which has been rewarded with 
the government patronage ever since its attacks on 
the Republican party. 

It is to the credit of the Free-State men that since 
they obtained the power, both political and of the 
mob, no paper has been disturbed, nor the freedom 
of speech assailed, although the pro-slavery press and 
pro-slavery stump still echoes the foulest slanders on 
their creed, their leaders, and their party. 

I might prolong to an unendurable extent this list, 
black—and still blackening as it lengthens—of the 
ruffianly recipients of official rewards for vile deeds 
done in the unhappy territory, which has so long 
been the victim of the Slave Power’s lust; but which, 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 341 


recently—thank God—proved itself not unworthy of 
its illustrious and free Puritan descent, by spurning so 
unceremoniously and so firmly the bribe that was 
held up beneath a threat to reduce it! But with 
another instance I will close it, referring those of you 
who would learn the entire length, and the depth, 
and the breadth of it, to consult the ensanguined 
chronicles of Kansas, which are strewed with similar 
and even more deplorable outrages. 

There was, and yet is, a wealthy firm in Leaven- 
worth, who have thousands of men in their employ. 
They established a branch of their business in the 
city when it was still a straggling village, and wealth 
thus contributed greatly to its rapid increase in popu- 
lation. Lawrence was surrounded with ruffians. It 
was dangerous at Leavenworth to be known as a 
Free-State man. This in 1856. Suddenly every man 
was asked by the chief of the firm what party he 
belonged to. Every man who was in favor of a 
Free State, and every man who was not emphatically — 
pro-slavery, without any regard to his merits as a 
workman, was instantly cashiered. A handbill 
appeared in Lexington and other Missouri towns 
a few weeks afterwards, telling workmen that this 
firm needed help; but it contained this ominous, and 
in view of the author’s connection with the Govern- 
ment, this significant postscript: “N.B. None need 
apply who are not sound on the Southern question.” 

Months elapsed and the war was resumed. The 
territory was covered with guerillas, gangs of high- 
waymen, horse-thieves, and house-breakers from 
Missouri, Georgia, Alabama, and South Carolina. 
An immense posse was gathering at Lecompton to 
sack the town of Lawrence. The firm had about 


342 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


a hundred men at their establishment preparing to 
start across the prairies. They were told to go and 
fight the Yankees, furnished with arms and powder, 
and had the same pay that they received for their 
services at their ordinary work. 

This same firm appealed, with Atchison, to the 
South for men and arms; one of them acted as the 
treasurer to the Southern contributors, and disbursed 
the treasury of desolation and civil war as the exigen- 
cies of their guerilla forces and armies required. 

This firm has made millions by the government 
contracts. 

For a specimen of the manner in which they have 
been rewarded, I refer you to the last report of the 
Secretary of the Treasury, from which you will see 
that they have been paid at the rate of $187 per 
barrel for transporting each and every barrel of flour 
forwarded to the army at Utah. 

If, then, as Charles Sumner says, “ he who is not 
for freedom in her hour of peril, is against her,” be 
true, and be equally true of slavery, how will the 
South and her oligarchy ever be able to defray 
their indebtedness to the Democracy ? and how, too, 
will New England and the North ever be able to 
square their accounts, even when the terrible day of 
reckoning does come ? 


idl 


SLAVE-HUNTING IN KANSAS. 


Tue most romantic passages of Kansas history 
have never yet been penned. I will relate two au- 
thentic incidents, as specimens of these narratives 
suppressed ; and will give them, as nearly as [remem- 
ber, in the language of a noble friend, who related, 
and participated in the scenes described. 

I had been speaking of the first slave who escaped 
from Missouri by the Kansas and Nebraska Under- 
ground Railroad, and remarked that I was proud of 
the fact that I had armed them, and otherwise assist- 
ed them to continue their heroic and arduous journey. 

“That railroad,’ my friend said, ‘does a very 
brisk business now. [’ll tell you an incident of its 
history.” 


CLUBBING SLAVE-HUNTERS. 


“A slave, named , escaped from Bates 
County, Missouri, and succeeded in reaching Law- 
rence. There, he was put in the track of the Under- 
ground Railroad, and was soon safely landed in Can- 
ada. He wrote to our President, announcing his ar- 
rival, and urging him to tell his wife of it and to aid 
her to escape. 


“ Next morning after the letter arrived, our mutual 
848 








344 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


friend left Lawrence for Missouri. He went to 
the woman, told her of her husband’s wish, and, 
after sunset, started her for Lawrence. They reached 
it in safety, and were beyond Topeka, when the 
slave-hunters overtook them, overpowered them and 
arrested the woman. She had two children with her. 
They put them in their covered wagon, and drove ~ 
rapidly towards home. They gagged her; but, in 
passing H ’s house, she tore off the bandage and 
shouted for help. He happened to be out of doors 
at the time—it was night—and instantly mounted 
his horse. He came down to Lawrence, and roused 
us from our beds. We dressed ourselves hastily, 
(there were three of us,) ran to the stable, and put 
after the Missourians. We rode at full speed for 
nearly four hours, when, shortly after midnight, in 
turning a bend of the road in the woods, we came 
up right suddenly on the slave-hunters. There were 
three of them on horseback, and one driving the wa- 
gon. They had heard us coming, and waited for our 
approach, and fired simultaneously as soon as we saw 
them. Crack, crack, crack, went our pistols in re- 
turn! One fellow tumbled from his horse, which 
ran away, dragging him along as it went. 

“< Charge!’ shouted Col. ‘Club them!’ 

“We were mounted on splendid large horses, 
while the slave-hunters were on shabby little Indian 
ponies. This gave us a great advantage over them 
in charging. I seized my navy pistol by the barrel ; 
rode straight upon one fellow; and, raising the wea- 
pon, brought it down with all my strength on his 
head. The colonel did the same with the other 
man. I supposed that we killed them, for they fell 
and never moved again. The first man who had 











SLAVERY IN KANSAS. B45 


been shot, was badly wounded; but, I supposed at 
the time, not fatally. Yet, [don’t know it; for we 
did n’t wait to see! 

“When the fellow who was driving the wagon 
saw the first man tumble, he lashed his horses and 
tried to keep them ata gallop. But the negro wo- 
man sprang up, caught hold of him by the neck, and 
tried to pull him over into the wagon. rode 
after the fugitives, overtook them, cocked his revol- 
ver, and put it close to the slave-hunter’s head. He 
shouted savagely: 

“¢Surrender ! d-— you, or here goes!’ 

“He did n’t need to repeat the order. The fellow 
cried for mercy, jumped out of the wagon, and ran 
off as fast as his legs could carry him. 

**¢Pm cursed sorry he surrendered!’ said ——, 
‘my mouth was watering for a shot at him!’ 

“We turned round the wagon, let the horses of 
the slave-hunters go, left the bodies of the Missou- 
rians lying on the prairie, and drove back as rapidly 
as we came from Lawrence. drove the wagon | 
a couple of hundred miles. It is now regularly em- 
ployed in the service of the U. G. R. Rt. 

“The fire of the Missourians injured a hat, and a 
cravat; a ball went through them; but that was all 
the damage done.” 

All?” I asked. 

“ Yes, that’s all.” 

“ But, the Missourians ?”’ 

“ Oh! yes; we heard that they were found on the 
prairie, dead; but, then, the woman and her two 
children, once mere property, are now human beings, 
and alive. I guess they will answer instead of the 
Missourians, when the great roll of humanity is called! 

15* 








346 THE ROVING EDITOR. 





AS 
“No one but we three (with H and the 
woman), ever heard of this affair. We reached 
Lawrence before sunrise, put our horses up, slipped 
quietly to our rooms in the hotel, and no one sup- 
posed we had been out of bed.” 


GUARDS. 





FATE OF THE 


“ But that scene was nothing when compared with 
the charge on the Guards. Oh, God!” 

My friend shuddered violently. 

Everybody who is familiar with the history of 
Kansas has heard of the — Guards. They were 
a gang of Missouri highwaymen and horse-thieves, 
who organized under the lead of —, the 
Kansas correspondent of a leading pro-slavery paper, 
when the Territorial troubles first broke out in the 
spring of 1855. 

After sacking a little Free-State town on the Santa 
Fe road, and committing other petty robberies and 
misdemeanors, they were attacked, in the summer of 
’56, by a celebrated Free-State captain, and defeated 
by a force of less than one-half their numerical 
strength. They were kept as prisoners until released 
by the troops. Capt. , satisfied with his laurels, 
then retired from the tented field. But the company 
continued to exist and still lived by robbery. Shortly 
after the Xenophon of the Kansas prairies left them, 
they elected, as their captain, a ruffian of most infa- 
mous character and brutal nature. He presently 
was known to have committed outrages on the per- 
sons of three Free-State mothers. 

I will now report the narrative of my friend: 




















i 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 347 


Capt. and the boys, when they were con- 
vinced of the crimes these marauders had committed, 
resolved to follow them and fight them until the very 
last man was either banished or exterminated. We 
heard one night that they were encamped in a ravine 
near ——. We cleaned our guns, filled our cartridge 
boxes with ammunition, and left our quarters with as 
stern a purpose as ever animated men since hostilities 
were known. 

“Tt was about midnight when we began our march. 
A cold, misty, disagreeable night. We marched in 
silence until we came within a mile of the ravine. 
Then the captain ordered us to halt. There were 
thirty men of us. He divided us into two companies 
or platoons in order to get the highwaymen between 
a cross fire. We could see their camp lights twinkling 
in the distance. We then made an extended detour 
and slowly approached the ravine. Not a word was 
spoken. Every man stepped slowly and cautiously 
and held in his breath as we drew near to the camp 
of the enemy. We knelt down until we heard a 
crackling noise among the brush on the opposite side, 
which announced the presence and approach of our 
other platoon. 

“The ————— Guards heard it also, and sprang to 
their feet. They numbered twenty-two men. 

“Our captain, then, in a deep, resounding voice, 
gave the order: 

“<< Attention ! Company ! 

The t———— Guards, hitherto huddled together 
around the fires, tried to form in line and seize their 
arms. 

But it was too late. 

“<% Take aim!” 





348 THE ROVING EDITOR. 


“very man of us took a steady aim at the marau- 
ders, whose bodies the camp fires fatally exposed. 

OF Kirn! 

‘Hardly had the terrible word been uttered ere the 
roar of thirty rifles, simultaneously discharged, was 
succeeded by the wildest, most unearthly shriek that 
ever rose from mortals since the earth was peopled. 

“T saw two of them leap fearfully into the air. I 
saw no more. I heard no more. That shriek un- 
manned me. I reeled backward until I found a tree 
to lean against. The boys told me afterwards that I 
had fainted. I was not ashamed of it. 

*¢¢ March ? 

“YT obeyed the command mechanically. We 
marched back in truly solemn silence. I had walked 
a mile or two before I noticed that the other pla- 
toon was not with us. 

“TY asked where it was. 

“< Burying them, was the brief and significant 
response. 

“¢ Were they all killed, then? 

“¢Hvery one of them.’ 

“T shuddered then: I can’t think of it yet without 
shuddering.” 

My friend did not speak figuratively when he said 
so; for he shuddered in earnest—in evident pain— 
as he related these facts. But it was not an unmanly 
weakness that caused it, for he instantly added: 

“That scene haunts me. It was a terrible thing 
to do. But it was right—a grand act of retributive 
justice—and I thank God, now, that I was ‘in at the 
death’ of those marauders. No one ever missed 
them; they were friendless vagrants. God help them! 
I hope the stern lesson taught them humanity! 


SLAVERY IN KANSAS. 349 


“What do you think of it? Don’t you think it 
was right ?” 

“Tt was the grandest American act since Bunker 
Hill,” I said. 


THE END. 








THE 


CHRISTIAN SOUVENIR; 


AN 


ILLUSTRATED ANNUAL. 


WITH 
EIGHTEEN FINE ENGRAVINGS, 
SIX FLOWER PLATES, 


ONE VOL, 8vo., 486 PAGES, 


Price $1 25. 


NEW YORK: 
a. BS. BURDICK, 


8 SPRUCE STREET. 
1858. 


CHOICE PEARLS; 


oR, 


GEMS OF LITERATURE, 


A Gif? BOOK 
FOR ALL SEAS Ore 
A LARGE HANDSOME OCTAVO VOLUME OF 436 PAGES, 
AND EMBELLISHED WITH 
12 FINE STEEL ENGRAVINGS AND 6 BEAUTIFUL FLOWER PLATES, 


Price $1. 25. 


dew Pork: 
A, B. BURDITGas 


8 SPRUCE STREET, 
1858. 


[MPENDING CRISIS 
THE SOUTH: 


mwa O. MNE.T TT. 
BY H. R. HELPER, 


OF NORTH CAROLINA. 
A handsome 12mo. volume of 420 pages. Price $1 00. 


From Hon. William H. Seward. 

“T have read ‘ The Impending Orisis of the South’ with deep attention. It seems to 
me a work of great merit, rich, yet accurate, in statistical information, and logical in 
analysis.”?> ~ 

From Rev. Theodore Parker, 

“Tt is an admirable work. No man has hitherto made so complete a collection of 

the facts, and none put them in such ‘ magnificently stern array.’ ” 
From Hon. Cassius M. Clay. 


“Tt is just such a work as is needed in the present array of political antagonisms. 
The statistics are compact, lucid, and logically presented. The tone of the author is 
manly, outspoken, and patriotic. Iregard it as the best compend of all the arguments 
against this our country’s greatest woe, S/avery, yet published. No intelligent citizen 
should fail to place it in his library. The bookcraft of the work is of very fine style, and 
creditable to the publishers. 

From Hon. Joshua R. Giddings, of Ohio. 

“Tt is a manual for the times, calculated to meet the popular demand for informa 
tion upon the great question of the age.” 

Extracts from a review of 8 columns in the New York Tribune, 


** Fortunate, indeed, are the non-slaveholding whites, that they have found such a 
spokesman; one who utters no stammering, hesitating, nor uncertain sound, who pos- 
sesses a perfect mastery of his mother tongue, who speaks as well from a long study 
and full knowledge of his subject as from profound convictions, and in whose vocabulary 
the words fear and doubt seem to have no place.” 

Extracts from the New York Evening Post. 


“The author has collected, in a volume of some four hundred pages, the most com- 
pact and irresistible array of facts and arguments, to prove the impolicy of Slavery, 
that we have encountered. 


From the Jeffersonian (Ohio) Democrat. 
“Tt is the greatest Anti-Slavery work ever issued from the American press.” 


Ten large editions of this masterly work have been sold. 


We want competent Agents in every part of the country to sell this 
book, to whom a liberal discount will be given. 
Single copies sent to any address post paid, on receipt of $1 00. 
4ddress 
A. B. BURDICK, (Successor to Burpicx Bro’s.) 
8 Spruce Street New York. 


OLD HEPSY: 


A POWERFUL NATIONAL STORY 
BY MRS, MARY A. DENISON, 


Price $1 25. 


Tue book is a large 12mo. volume, of nearly 500 pages, and is embellished with 
ten portraits of characters in the work, engraved by the first artist in New York. 

It is pronounced by the press generally, to be one of the most powerful stories 
ever written in this country. 

The author is now engaged in dramatizing it for the stage, and it is being trans- 
lated into the German language. It will soon be republished both in England and 
Germany. 


OPINIONS OF THE PRESS, 


From The New York Daily Tribune. 


“The writer has made an excellent use of the abundant resources of her theme, and well sustained 
her claim to the mastery of a fresh and vigorous pen.” 


From The Evening Post (New York). 


“This powerful story forcibly illustrates the influence of slavery upon the social and domestic 
relations—in a new aspect of literature. It is a picture which, though dark and fearful, is true 


to life. ‘ 
“The incidents are of the most exciting character, and combine to render the book intensely 


-nteresting.” 
From The Pennsylvania Inquirer (Philadelphia). 


‘The characters and incidents are all from real life. The style is glowing and graphic, and the 
details are full of interest from first to last. The work, indeed, is one of rare merit, and cannot but 
produce a sensation.” 

From The Boston Daily Cowrier, 


“ As a literary composition, it ranks higher than either of Mrs. Stowe’s publications. It is impos- 
sible to deny to the author of ‘ OLD Hrepsgy’ a powerful pen.” : 


From The Springfield Republican (Mass). 
“It is a story full of excitement, and its revelations are probably true.” 
From Zion’s Herald (Boston). 
“Had not‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ preceded it, this book would have produced a sensation quite 


equal to that.” 
From The Christian Enquirer (New York). 


*‘Tt is one of the most powerful anti-slavery works which has ever been produced. The charac- 
ters of Old Hepsey, Mabel, and Lawyer Kenneth, are drawn to life, and the excitement of interest ig 
almost painful as the end is approached.” 


From Home Mission Record (New York), 


‘The incidents are thrilling. By those who are judges, ‘OLp Hersey’ is pronounced equal to 
‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin,’ of world-wide notoriety. Our readers will not fail to have a copy of ‘OLp 


Hepsey.’”? 
From The Chelsea Herald (Mass), 


“Mrs. Denison has achieved complete success in this work, and it will be read with absorbing 
interest at every New England fireside.” 


From The American Baptist (New York), 


“Tt has all the fascination of a regular romance, excelling, in this respect, both ‘Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin’ and ‘ Dred.’” 


AGENTS WANTED in every part of the free States and Canadas to engage 
mmediately in the sale of this book, to whom liberal discount will be given. 
#= Single copies sent to any address, postpaid, on receipt of $1 25. 
Address A. B. BURDICK, Postisuer, 
No. 8 Spruce Street, New York. 


Bae ee ee id 


« 


A LIVING BOOK FOR WIDE-AWAKE READER~ 


AAS 


JUST PUBLISHED, 


THE PULPIT AND THE PEW. 


BEING 
THE HISTORY OF A STRUGGLE FOR JUSTICE BETWEEN THE TWO. 


BY REV. HENRY T. CHEEVER. 


AUTHOR OF “THE WHALE AND HIS CAPTORS ;”’ “ISLAND WORLD OF THE PACIFIC;”! 
‘‘ LIFE IN THE SANDWICH ISLANDS;’’ “ THE CHRISTIAN INVALID ;” ETO. 
One handsome volume 12mo. 370 pages. Price $1. 


OPINIONS OF THE PRESS, 
From The Independent (New York). 

« This is a genuine, living, veritable, powerful record. It is a deeply interesting and instructive 
book. A more remarkable record of a conflict for Christ and Justice against Satan and oppression, 
for piety and freedom against iniquity and slavery, so brief, concentrated, and triumphant, is hard- 
ly to be found in the English language. We commend this book to the perusal of every church and 
pastor throughout our land. It will teach them what are their rights, and how in Christ to defend 
them. We commend it to every oppressed and injured pastor and church member. We commend 
It to all the deacons of churches of every denomination.” 


From The Evangelist (New York). 
‘‘ Taking this book as a faithful narrative of fact, we are constrained to say that it throws ‘ Shad7 
Side’ into a deeper shadow.” 





From The New York Chronicle. 


“The pastoral office in our country is the mere foot-ball of society to be kicked to and fro at the 
dictation of aspiring captious spirits. The book before us*gives the actual experiences which arise 
from this peculiar state of the pastoral office, in a cogent style, and with the results of a wide range 
of reading and observation, to make it on many accounts a work of-wisdom and truth, It is a 
work of great ability, and well deserving the attention of both pastors and people.” 

From The Christian Enquirer (New York). 

«The author is evidently a very conscientious and high-toned man, whose lot was cast in the 
midst of a kind of Christian Philistines that made his situation sufficiently uncomfortable. He fought 
a good fight for the church and the pulpit, and gained the victory. 

« We are glad he put down the Christian Philistines. That sectis ensconced more or less, in every 
parish, and well done he who gives them a rebuff.” 


From Home Mission Record. 


“ Whatever the views of the reader on the question at issue, he will find the narrative one of in- 
tense and thrillinginterest. It out-rivals, in this particular, the most highly wrought works of fiction. 


From The Norwich (Ct.) Courier. 

* In style, the book has a peculiar force, directness, point, and power, and sparkles with gems of 
thought that electrify and charm the reader, It is valuable, also, for its singularly felicitous and ap- 
propriate quotations, which make it a kind of picture-gallery, hung around with the chefs d’auvre 
of this and other ages.” 

From Zion's Advocate. 

‘The narrative is one of intense interest, to which fiction could hardly add anything. Made up 
mostly of extracts from the pastor’s journal, the work has the peculiar charm of an autobiography. 
The work abounds in sharp pithy reflections, elicited by the singular incidents of the narrative as 
they occurred, and also suggestions called forth by the trials of the pastor, which may afford excel- 
lent spiritual counsel to those in affliction from any cause. The work is neatly published, and sold 
at a moderate price,”’ 

From The American Baptist (New York). 
_ Are you fond of Tableaux? Then you must read this book, for here are ‘tableaux vivants’ in 
which the living play a singular part, and the other world strangely mingles, This is a collection of 
‘facts stranger than fiction.? Thousands will read it as if a history of their own experience. The 
book has the three-fold merit of being truthful, useful, and interesting. The interest increases tothe 
end.” 
tay Single copies sent by mail post-paid on receipt of the price, One Dollar. 


Address A. B. BURDICK, Posttsuer, 
-Vo. 8 Spruce Street, New York. 


Several Thousand AGENTS WANTED to circulate this book through 
at the land. 











ye 


PERS Met’ 

¢ Ul am 

; oy “vise, ee : . - mh! & 
a Bere 4 » Vit sped 
- ae Sha, f 


moe 


2 xobakg alt Se pais 




















—— 2 


hi 7 
a 
~ 
nds 
ae . 
rp 








j row 
any 
pe of the 
4 the m. 
baad 
Bored bo be” 


ba pit 





ke epee. eae steerage 

rae ei Se Ee Sa got ret 

ere, he sith site chek he oe 
irs Mads se Mi rade glean or hey 


‘ae cae ee as ae a ee wey “iy tae de Gi tae eh a yet ae 
oe le ae age yt 2. eB ee F a " ee age SER ae ae he aye ea ads a 
a ad ee a a a rte a wo : Bay . Whigs: ‘J Sere ee Be a ge a Sen é 
be ade Nal a hg agp “ae . : aa a ike Sine > abe ape Mages ag, 
ee age eae ae , ‘ > a Se he ae age eS + ee 
best Mesilla ffi cil. dite cia POR ak ott a iat ee Fay ie ee nh aa ae abe Pg UR ay, ag, ou 
tes Py ate ae a ar a ae ig ae Pe be Mie ay 
: ier ne ie ae gs > a Hg ale a pea Vas hig gi or Ba ee eB ae 
te a ie he at ae » Bit cles ttl tt Gaia teal re a a on ee “errs 
@ Tape a Se an as ae as a ae gf bolita dite, sia thes oh ea ae Me Be he ae ge im he ae 
Bae Nia Sue aa ae age gn gps wager, A haan ge ape ae le a a a AZ ngs 
te (ikl it Miah. cl che a ek ak Se BE ae We i abet eR ys 
Sa Oa ale per ce age an hs 4 ae tap 
= ha as Nini ilk sh. ese ee : 
aS RE i hes ig 4 
en aia * ties age ~ ie © se wie ay leases Hig aah i,” ieee “ae hee “ be! . 
ae a ine aie ale age as ae Se ate Se ical ile ithe Ih ih ahs okie ae ok ; ' Sah ab a Sg “See ee a HE ge ig ge ay ge m* 
teh Ae Ws Mi Aa-Pt- Meraih shied oie tomas okt al "age ae iar? hl a eee ‘i I. - r NE See, Eg Paks eg ge Ne Wie, Ae ee a ee 
“a iiaciite ite icon a SSE he ae eb hap ha ago ah. die dl A il tee he * . pa ab Nady = ge de age age = 
th, dh tke ae en ee he eee quem oe Pane oe ef } dei i i ; 


q tie ae ah ddr bi Papa rreaetrn 9 
ihe bop he ede og =e “a 
a Ge Be SB ee hb igi SH a Se Se *Say . 
SS bie Sts ilies 9b ¥ i ha a GT ae Na Gy A at get 
ale et aber shp ge ig a a ea PU iS Gee siags Hatta Rig i as Saree at 
° ; a , arene ee eg, HP Bea ee eae ag ab ge Sadish. 5 aur oe i , 
sas dee Mg “il ¥ vb bE Oy ; es 
eee She ae aia Gi . : ee 2 “4 . £ ‘ 
“ beicaiie. stk aeh, coe ie id. a ; 2 a “y hse D ih inci, be aa ta tae err aae: 
CP ls ge tae gs X “4 4 - - 4 Fae ee ok one as ay ay gee 
y aft ‘ Sabb RE Ss PN tae ae rhage aie pyre 
tt. " ee Na iting gers ae yas err wate ag Fe, 
Sn yg id ag ag. = igs gpg rete. ay a cae " 
, ib de Gi ake Ue ‘ 
7 eh Ne near ee he, 
“a oo Si mig ay 
Beh Oe a ah = gar ie he 
an és tata tae ee aa gp, age 4h 


brittany Rik Aibe-ste- chine Paka Tae 
Matthies seks tae ek ten. tee 


~ 


; or ee Fahate Nahas 
‘ , , : Mah Paha 
Dyiatte tar ih gi, rat atiate ta! rij deste as ta hae e nla eieteghotc 
0 OE Ne Nia ae ge se en % E si atk dies 
erp tatetatete tah. eee 
us Ba Rei Mittgorta i